


A Dangerous Servant

by Mendeia



Series: The Temple Steps Alight [2]
Category: The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest, The Sentinel
Genre: Action, Adventure, Crossover, Epic Friendship, Gen, Sentinel/Guide, The Sandburg Zone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 03:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 75,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3553754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mendeia/pseuds/Mendeia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Government is not reason; it is not eloquent; it is a force. Like fire, it is a dangerous servant and a fearful master.<br/>-George Washington</p><p>With the Quests and the Ellison-Sandburg team joining forces, the project to provide a learning center for Sentinels is coming together. But a new danger in Cascade, a crisis for a fledgling Sentinel, and the first attempt at global action could put an end to everything before it even gets started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

"And that, gentlemen, is why the SELF Initiative is of such importance to our national and international security," Agent Fritz concluded. "Considering that we need virtually no budget allocated as it will be funded privately, the request for a small amount of manpower and basic credentials is beyond reasonable."

The three men across from him exchanged glances. One cleared his throat.

"You have highlighted several intriguing possibilities, Agent Fritz."

"Thank you, Mister Secretary."

"But I am concerned by what you haven't said." The Secretary of the DHS leaned forward. "How can you guarantee that these Sentinels will side with us in the end? I agree that the promise of citizenship is a necessary one to ensure cooperation, but what is to stop these people from learning all Doctor Quest and Doctor Sandburg will teach them and then taking that information back to their homelands to use against us?"

"If we're going to go to the trouble of offering citizenship based on a few genetic quirks, we need some sort of means to ensure the trouble is worth it," said the second man.

"I understand your concerns, Mister Secretary, Mister Deputy Secretary," Howard nodded. "And we could argue long and hard about whether or not such a promise is even feasible, or whether requiring some form of concrete benefit is even enforceable, let alone consistent with how we treat other immigrants and refugees, but even that is not the issue."

The Deputy Secretary as well as the head of the USCIS each raised an eyebrow in almost identical expressions. "Oh?"

"A Sentinel's genetic imperative to protect is very powerful," Agent Fritz explained. "When Sentinels claim territory over either individuals or a location, their instinctive defense of that territory is both subtle and undeniable. Certainly, some foreign Sentinels who come to SELF will feel that their territory lies in lands beyond our borders, even potentially in countries which are enemies to us."

He smiled. "But if Doctor Sandburg is to be believed, even that would not override a Sentinel's loyalty to the place that sheltered them."

"You're saying they'd look on the United States like a…like a college alma mater," said the third man, the quiet Deputy Secretary of the DHS. "They might come and go and only call it home for a time, but they would hold certain loyalties thereafter."

"Almost," Agent Fritz said. "They would be inclined to look upon the United States as one does one's in-laws – perhaps it is a distasteful ally, but one is forever indebted for providing the most important thing in one's life. No matter how much a person hates their in-laws, they are bound to them in the form of the spouse."

"You mean the Guide," the Secretary said.

"And SELF," Howard nodded. "If these Sentinels acquire American Guides, their loyalties would be ensured. But even if they do not, SELF will provide family, tribe, aid, and freedom to these people. SELF will become father and mother and support system all in one. They may hate our country with all their souls, but they will not be able to turn aside SELF so easily."

"But SELF is not an American institution," said the head of the USCIS. "Their loyalty will ultimately lie with Doctor Quest and Doctor Sandburg."

"Both of whom are deserving of that trust," Howard said firmly. "Tell me, honestly. Would you ask these men and women, biologically coded to serve and protect beyond anything we could instill in most of our own military, to be subject to a political appointee's will. No offense, sirs," he said with a tiny smirk. "To use a trite colloquialism, a Sentinel, like a puppy, is for life. We can all agree that there are forces within our own government we would not wish to have knowledge of or access to these Sentinels. It is not the same thing as the chain of military command. We cannot assign a Sentinel to lead the rest, and we cannot decree who shall be a Guide. Likewise, we should not attempt to push these Sentinels into loyalty to a system or a government. It will not hold."

"Are you sure about that?" the Deputy Secretary asked softly.

"Very."

"Now, what about this potential threat from international groups who may oppose what Quest is doing?" the Deputy Secretary asked.

"As far as we know," Agent Fritz said, "nothing is immediately forthcoming. The specific group that abducted Doctor Quest last spring appears to have gone underground or been absorbed into something else. None of our best investigations have uncovered any remaining interest from the Wellmen Global group to pursue Doctor Sandburg into Cascade. So we shouldn't need to worry about resources or oversight on that score at this point."

"Howard," the Secretary looked at the man he considered one of his best – if not _the_ best – agents. "There's another reason you want this SELF business off the books and outside the normal channels and hierarchy. What is it?"

Howard smiled at his sharp superior. "It is my belief that there will come a time when diplomatic relations will demand that we as a nation stand by and take no action in a situation abroad. To our peril, we have learned that a government cannot always be the force for aid or peacekeeping or intelligence worldwide. We have also learned that private contractors, while valuable, should not always be trusted to act in any interest but their own. But SELF as an independent organization run by a single benefactor may function differently."

"You mean if a situation arose in which we could not intervene militarily, SELF might intervene and spare us the political fallout?"

"Yes, sir." Agent Fritz held up a hand. "But they will not be ordered about. They will only go where they choose to go, as Doctor Quest has always done. Even when he worked for our government, he had that freedom."

"What is the ultimate goal, then?" asked the USCIS head.

"Call it a shadow Red Cross if you will. A force of dedicated, well-funded and loyal individuals who can make moves on the world stage across borders free of international infighting. Most will believe, if nothing else, in the cause of humanitarian acts. They might never involve themselves in something like a war, but I believe they would, with time, be unable to keep out of situations where innocent civilians are in need of their help."

Howard smiled inwardly – the political game at play was a subtle one, and while he had said nothing tecnically untrue, there were certain implications he knew had more meaning for his boss the Secretary than they would ever have based in reality. But this last had been absolute fact. Howard might or might not be mercenary when it came to the buying of loyalties, but he would have bet his career and his life on the ability of SELF to do good if allowed. On the abilities of Doctors Quest and Sandburg to foster good in the Sentinels they chose to help.

And if Howard had his way, one day SELF would not require the DHS as shield over them at all. He only needed to play the game long enough to make the right moves.

Howard _lived_ for the long game.

"You make them sound like superheroes," the Secretary frowned. "Like a bunch of caped mutants running to the rescue when there are cats up a tree or babies down a well."

"Perhaps," Howard acknowledged. Then he met their eyes in his gaze and held them.

"Sentinels and their Guides and those who pass their scrutiny may very well be the best of humanity," he said truthfully. "At this moment, everything they are is in its infancy compared to what they could become. We _must_ give them this opportunity. And if the result is that we do have more people like the Quests, more Jim Ellisons, in the world, then I, for one, will sleep better wherever I am because someone will be watching over us all."

-==OOO==-

Simon glared across the tiny cab of the truck, having to lean forward so he could look around Sandburg to where Jim sat behind the wheel. "At what point, _exactly_ , are you two going to tell me where we're going?"

"Soon," Jim offered.

"No, ' _soon_ ' isn't good enough," Simon growled. "If you're going to kidnap me on my day off with no explanation and drive me to god-knows-where, you're going to offer me a better answer than ' _soon_ ,' detective!"

"Come on, man," Blair smiled. "Can't you just enjoy the mystery?"

"I wouldn't taunt the man who is squished up against you and can make your life miserable before Jim can stop me, Sandburg," Simon threatened.

"All right, just take it easy," Jim said, and Simon could have strangled him for being quite so relaxed and cheerful, except it was rare to see his friend laid back like this. But, then again, Jim had been much more at ease lately overall. Even now, crammed into the cab of a truck definitely not designed to seat three even if two of them weren't of Jim's and Simon's stature, he watched the winding mountain road before him without a hint of the usual gruffness that tended to hover around the man. And Simon had been on too many fishing trips with him to be tricked into thinking it had something to do with the fact that they were an hour outside Cascade and lost in the mountains.

Jim nudged Blair. "You explain it."

"Okay, so you know last month when we were in that meeting with the Mayor and the Commissioner and Doctor Quest was talking about buying property to set up SELF?"

Simon nodded. It was a difficult conversation to forget, really.

"Well," Sandburg's smile could have rivaled the sun whose light was streaming down, "this is it!"

Simon realized that the truck was turning off the road onto a narrow driveway that disappeared into the trees.

"There's nothing here," he shook his head.

"There won't ever be anything this near the road," Jim confirmed. "It's supposed to be secret, still. And it isn't all up and running yet, either. It'll take a while to finish building everything and installing the rest of the security equipment."

"But the gate's already up," Blair gestured carefully, without smacking either man in the ribs. Around a thick stand of evergreens, Simon could see a stout metal gate that wouldn't have been out of place at the governor's mansion or a federal prison. There was a double perimeter fence, too, creating a wide alley in which no trees or cover grew. The outer gate had a simple "No Trespassing" sign on it, but even so it didn't look cold so much as very official and private. Arching high above the gate was a sign that proclaimed in clean script, "Sensory Evaluation and Learning Foundation."

The gate opened automatically at Jim's approach.

"The truck's got a sensor in it that the system recognizes," Blair explained before Simon could ask. "But that only gets us so far."

Indeed, they were obliged to stop before a second gate while the first closed behind them. Simon trusted his friends knew what they were doing, but he still hated the feeling of being penned in this tiny little place the length of an eighteen-wheeler truck and too narrow for more than one vehicle to pass at a time. The walls and gates were high, maybe as much as twenty feet up, and now Simon could make out a concealed tower looking down on them.

Jim rolled his window down. "It's just me. It's all clear."

The gate before them started to open.

"I didn't see anyone," Simon said, frowning.

"That's the point," Jim answered with a shrug. "Right now the place is staffed mostly with agents from the Department of Homeland Security, and they take secrecy pretty seriously. But they're only here on loan."

"Someday," Blair said softly, "we hope it will be Sentinels guarding us."

The truck emerged from the gate into a cleared area, suddenly bright after the darkness under the canopy of the forest. Simon looked to see a broad, wild area stretch away from him in all directions. Low bushes and other undergrowth remained but all the trees had been removed for a margin of several yards along the inside of the fence. Simon squinted. It could _almost_ be natural.

They continued up the road back under the cover of trees a few yards later. The road here was more of a compacted dirt path than something paved, and the truck bumped along. Everywhere Simon looked, he only saw the wilderness, nothing of the stringent security that had met them at the gate. And there was no sign of the fenced border, either.

"How _big_ is this place, anyway?" he asked after a few minutes.

"I think it's just a little bit shy of 8,500 acres," Jim said. "A little more than 13 square miles overall inside the perimeter with its own water-source from a spring on the property."

"Plus," Blair grinned, "most of the land around us is actually government-owned, so we won't get any neighbors any time soon."

Simon gulped at the sheer scale they were talking about so blithely. He'd known Doctor Quest had some serious backing to get the DHS to cover for Sandburg and help them set up this crazy operation, but he had no idea it went this far. To his left, Jim chuckled.

"I know how you feel," he said. "I'm not used to it yet, either."

"But the best part," Blair continued, "is that because of Doctor Quest's innovations and some nifty new techniques for biointensive farming, the whole place could be totally self-sufficient if we wanted it to be."

"You mean the people living here could farm and whatnot and they have enough space for that?" Simon asked.

"Farm, raise goats and chickens and cows and stuff, set up solar panels, the whole thing."

"This is Washington, Chief," Jim noted. "Not a whole lot of sun most days."

"Which is why we'll also have a wind turbine and a wheel coming off the stream from the spring," Blair replied. "We're not going to get all of that up and running yet – there won't be enough people here to maintain it all. But if things go the way we think they will, well, we'll be ready for it."

"This is starting to sound less like a refugee center and more like some sort of commune," Simon commented. "Or worse, something like a cult or the kind of place those crazy Sunrise Patriots would live."

"Some of that is on purpose," Jim said. "The people coming here will have been through the wringer in the worst way. They're going to need something completely cut off, totally secure, where they can feel safe from the outside world for a while. And we also need a place we can defend if necessary, just in case."

Simon remembered the dire warning from the meeting, but before he could ask about that, the truck once again broke into the sunlight.

The broad clearing looked like a scene out of a magazine for "Best Wilderness Retreats You've Never Heard Of" or something. The main building, what Jim had called the lodge, was about the size of a small hotel, with all the rustic charm of a cabin in the woods. To one side was what would clearly become a sizeable barn, half-built with the bare timbers shining in the sun. There were also a number of smaller buildings scattered around and behind, including a few little individual houses. There was a fountain out front that splashed musically around rough rocks, the water trickling away down a narrow creek to empty into a pond. And between the buildings and houses Simon could make out everything from a basketball court to a swimming pool to what looked like a soccer field.

Sandburg was talking excitedly about the way the water would be filtered and recycled, about how they were already planting fruit-bearing bushes and trees instead of formal gardens, about how every rooftop would be covered with solar panels and the wind turbine would go right over there and there was a natural waterfall elsewhere on the property where they could get additional hydro power, too, but Simon was only barely listening. As he started to look beneath the surface of the place that could have put any five-star resort to shame, he saw other things. He saw how there were no blind spots anywhere on the campus, how windows faced in every direction. He saw how the windows were broad but every single one had metal shutters that could probably be closed and locked automatically. He saw a fleet of roof-mounted satellite-dishes and sensors, artfully spread out, but not unlike the arrays on naval ships. This place was restful and beautiful, but it was also ready for anything.

Jim steered the truck around the front path to pull up beside the lodge. The moment he'd turned off the ignition, Simon was climbing out of the cab, grateful to stretch his legs after the cramped ride. He was struck by how clear and fresh the breeze was, how quiet the air. He decided he didn't even need to know if there were other things that made this place particularly Sentinel-friendly.

"So, while I'm glad to see the place, this doesn't answer my question. Why am I here?" he asked as Jim came around the truck and Sandburg piled out the open passenger door.

"Couple of reasons," Jim answered, gesturing that Simon should follow. "First, we wanted to get you on record with the security stuff as early as possible."

Simon didn't miss the unspoken 'before anything happens' that went along with that. He suppressed a shiver.

"Second, we wanted you to know how to find the place," Blair spoke up. "And we both knew you could find it again if you'd been here once."

It was a little-known talent of Simon's that he had a superb sense of direction and a memory for places. He preened a bit under the simple faith in his ability to retrace their steps, doubly so given the convoluted route it took to get all the way up here.

"And third," Jim pushed open the lodge door, "we wanted to give you your shot at dibs."

"Dibs?" Simon asked.

He stepped into the main room of the lodge. He had expected it to look a lot more like a lobby and a lot less like a common room, but he wasn't surprised to find he had been wrong. A grand fireplace dominated the center of the room, and couches and chairs and ottomans were scattered around in groups. One wall sported an absolutely massive television, while another was lined with bookcases. A curving stairway led upstairs, the upper balconies and hallways looking over the area through the beams and lights that gave the whole place a cabin-like feel.

"Look," Jim stopped only a few paces into the room, Blair moving to his shoulder, "this SELF thing, this is a lot bigger than us. And when we get going, there's no telling how things will turn out. You said you wanted to be a part of this, right?"

"Yeah," Simon nodded. Then, more deliberately, "What you're doing here, what you're going to do, it's important. And I owe it to the both of you to be here for you if you need me."

"Nice of you to say so, Simon," Blair smiled, "since there's almost no way we're going to pull this off without you."

"What do you mean?"

"According to everything we've learned so far," Blair explained, "Sentinels have a real 'thing' about authority. Like how wolves develop a strong pack hierarchy, Sentinels do better when they know exactly where they fit in the scheme of things."

"I'm not a Sentinel," Simon pointed out the obvious.

"No, but you're Captain Banks of the Cascade PD," Jim said. "You're also my boss. That means the Sentinels who come here will have an automatic respect for you and everything you stand for."

"It'll make them more likely to trust us if they know the official authorities are on their side, are even a part of their tribe too, you know?" Sandburg said. "They might theoretically accept that the United States government is an ally, but it's the local police force they'll actually have to trust while they're here. Since the whole point of this is to help Sentinels and get them free from their situations, we're hoping a lot of them will be able to leave here and go live normal lives in town at least at first. They'll feel better doing that with you watching out for them as the police."

"Is that why you picked Cascade for this thing?" Simon asked, having wondered several times why Doctor Quest, who could have picked any place in the country, chose his city for all this.

"Well, a little," Blair answered. "Mostly it's because of Jim. This is his territory. He's our number one Sentinel right now, you know? So it made sense to do it that way."

"There's also Rainier," Jim looked at his partner sharply. "Don't discount that."

Simon raised an eyebrow.

Blair coughed slightly. "Doctor Quest _might_ have donated a certain amount of fellowship and scholarship money to the university to get them to share some of their resources with us. Their anthropology department is among the best in the world – that's why I was there to start with. Having access to those resources will make it a lot easier for me to do my part."

Jim smirked. "He's also leaning on them to give Sandburg the option of going back to teach if he wants to and they've all but formally begged him to take a class to get Benton off their backs."

"So what does all this have to do with 'dibs?'" Simon asked after a moment.

Jim's smirk turned into a smile. "You'll want to claim a room of your own, right?"

Simon grinned. He needed no urging to begin following the other two up the stairs. The lodge was multi-storied, and somehow Simon wasn't surprised to learn that Jim and Blair had already laid claim to rooms on the top floor facing the road inbound. What did surprise him was that they were sharing a room; the door had a brass name plaque on it that clearly stated "Sentinel Jim Ellison, Guide Blair Sandburg, SELF Founders."

"Not one room," Blair shook his head. "Just…as Jim's Guide, it helps if I'm closer. Especially with a bunch of other Sentinels around."

The door that they pushed open in demonstration revealed a suite only a touch smaller than the loft itself complete with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and even a kitchen and living room/dining room area. Everything was already furnished in the same comfortable, rustic style, and clearly the amenities of a TV and sound system hadn't been skipped. The broad windows even had a balcony from which they could overlook the entire front part of the area and Jim could probably see all the way to the road. Simon noticed a ladder to one side and realized it gave full access to the roof, and he assumed that didn't have much to do with just maintaining solar panels.

"The Quests have already claimed their own rooms," Blair said after a moment. "Jonny and Hadji are right next door to us, Benton is one down from them, and then the Bannons." He paused and Simon could have sworn the kid was blushing slightly. "We thought you might want the room on our other side. You can choose any one you want, of course."

Simon didn't need to be an anthropologist to know what was being offered to him. He already knew all about the trust implicit in that offer, the importance of the placement and its position in the lodge, the equality and authority bestowed upon him even as a non-Sentinel or Guide or founder of SELF. Sandburg had called the Sentinels a tribe; Simon was being offered more than membership and respect – he was being offered a family.

"Well," he said a little gruffly, "let's take a look."

But he knew before he'd even opened the door that he would take it.

-==OOO==-

They were all the way back to Cascade, having finished a tour and getting Simon set up on a ridiculously complex security identification system (that had involved some very private information and some very surprising personal samples) when he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"So, I remember Doctor Quest saying something about setting up in town as well?"

"Oh, yeah," Blair nodded. "He bought a house right near Rainier University that we're going to retrofit for the office. The downstairs will be for the Foundation itself and will look nice and official, but it will have living quarters upstairs for any emergency drop-ins or just somebody who needs a nap. And we're fitting the basement with a safe room, too."

"Are you going to be okay?" Simon asked him with concern. "I mean, the university fired you and you'll be right on their doorstep."

"Oh," Jim grinned broadly, "I wouldn't worry. Between the student protests about Sandburg's unfair and frankly unwarranted dismissal, the anthropology department that threatened to walk out if the chancellor didn't realize the error of her ways, the legal pressure from the DHS who has a vested interest in keeping Sandburg's research secret, and Benton sweet-talking and bribing his way in, we'll be in good shape."

Simon blinked. He'd heard something from Daryl about the rumors of a student protest but hadn't realized it was on behalf of Blair. "You must have a lot of friends there."

Sandburg shrugged a little. "It happens when you spend more than a decade in an institution. I've been part of the anthropology department at Rainier longer than some of the tenured professors."

Jim huffed a laugh. "You should have seen the board of trustees meeting we crashed. Chancellor Edwards would have named a building after our little Einstein here if it got the wolves off her back. And that was _before_ the big guns got involved."

"Bigger guns than the DHS and Benton Quest?" Simon's eyebrows went up.

"Yeah," Blair smiled. "There _might_ have been a rumor going around that a couple of Ivy League schools were looking into poaching me and my research and the DHS deal and the Quest backing for their own departments, and a couple of my anthro profs, including my advisor Eli, offered to throw themselves in with the deal. If there's one thing any university hates more than a fraud, it's their own rivals."

"It was more than a rumor, Chief," Jim said.

"Well, yeah," he demurred, "but we wouldn't have gone and you know it, so it was never going to be more than an offer. Remember, Cascade's your territory. I wasn't going to uproot all this just to get a sweeter deal. Plus, staying around gives us an advantage since Eli's staying, too."

"What's that?" Simon asked.

"Eli knows about Jim, of course," Blair fiddled with the cuffs of his jacket sleeves. "I didn't tell him – I didn't need to. He's been my advisor for too long, and he'd read most of the drafts for my diss, too. But since everything's classified now, he can't _officially_ know anything. We talked it over, and Eli decided not to get involved but to keep his eyes open."

"Like having a double-agent," Jim added. "Eli won't have access to anything but the public information on SELF but he knows enough to watch for the right things. If someone can't come to Sandburg, they might go to him. A student or someone who does the research but doesn't want to raise a fuss. And rumors tend to make their way to him, too, and he can let us know if there's anything being said that we need to handle."

"So," Simon smiled at the pair, "all around, everything worked out okay?"

"Yeah," Blair nodded. "I'll get my doctorate in a couple of weeks – as soon as Howard over at the DHS can get all the approved people together. I guess there's a whole special task force devoted to us now. The US government can't openly recruit Sentinels because it would start an international incident, but they're sure interested in helping us do it."

"Like luring good doctors and scientists away to work for our government," Jim added. "Except a lot riskier."

"The people at the university who matter don't hate my guts," Blair continued with a genuine lightness in his voice, "and most of them are starting to think a little bit about my real research after this SELF thing and the government's interest. The people who do hate my guts hated me long before that press conference, and I don't have to care anymore because they can't keep me from getting what I want now."

"And what's that?" Simon asked.

Sandburg hesitated only a moment. "At first, the only thing I ever wanted was to find and study a real life Sentinel. I got that," he grinned at Jim. "Then all I wanted was to be his partner, you know? Be his Guide. And you gave me that," he turned the grin on Simon who felt something warm in his chest at that happy gratitude so clearly expressed.

"And now," Blair finished, "I get to keep doing both things – being Jim's partner and studying Sentinels – and using my knowledge to help people all over the world. There's nothing better than that, man!"

"It still sounds like it could be dangerous," Simon commented. "Plus, it's _you_ , so all the Sandburg Zone rules apply."

"You're probably right," Jim admitted, and though his tone was light there was steel underneath it. "But like Sandburg said, this is _my_ territory. If I have to defend it, I will."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry, you guys! This one was meant to be up on Friday, but life and a big clan party kind of got in the way. Happy Spring Equinox and Ostara to you all! Just be grateful I survived cooking my 8-pound ham and 9-pound turkey for my group of 13. To make up for it, here's the chapter from Friday as well as today's. I'll be back on schedule on Monday – promise.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Describe a place or environment where you are perfectly content. What do you do or experience there, and why is it meaningful to you?"

 

> "It takes no imagination on my part to identify the place where I find myself at ease and filled with warmth – it is here in my home in Maine, which I share with my family. I have lived all over the world, moving often with my mother as her archeological work carried her from continent to continent. At the age of thirteen, however, my parents decided that the time had come for me to spend more time with my father in what they called a "stable home environment." Clearly our definition of "stable" is somewhat to the side of the dictionary's version.
> 
> "This is also the home of Doctor Benton Quest and his two sons, Jonny and Hadji. It's a large manor on a swath of private property on the coast, complete with a lighthouse. I remember the first time I looked up, up, up against the cloudy sky at the steady light shining from the lantern room several stories above. I was more nervous than I would ever have admitted at looking at this strange place and wondering if I would ever call it 'home.' Dad and I had always been close, even separated, but all our vacations had been away from here. Somehow, the father I knew from trips and adventures didn't seem like the same guy walking me up the driveway to a house I'd never seen before.
> 
> "I remember there was a shout and suddenly a soccer ball was coming at me at full speed. I remember reacting on instinct, bringing up a knee and solidly intercepting it before it could take out my stomach. A moment later, a blushing, awkward boy with shining blond hair appeared, apologizing profusely, while beside him a thin Indian boy regarded me with warm eyes. These were to be my new friends, housemates, and playmates. I knew about Jonny and Hadji from dad's stories, but I didn't really know them. I was alone in an unfamiliar world, I, who had never felt like a stranger in Peru or Macedonia or Bali.
> 
> "It didn't last long.
> 
> "Almost four years later, I know every step of the house and the grounds, the lighthouse and the rocky shore. I have committed to memory the exact number of steps from my bedroom to dad's, the exact number of doors between the library and where Jonny and Hadji still have a playroom – though today it is mostly filled with what they cleverly call their 'stuff' and Doctor Quest and I prefer to name 'indeterminate junk.' I can climb the winding stairs of the lighthouse in my sleep, even skipping the one step that groans like a seasick rhino, until I can perch on the widow's walk and watch the stars sail over the sea in the dark.
> 
> "But sitting here, thinking about this place, it's the people who live here that inspire me while making me feel safe and welcome as nowhere else on earth. Doctor Quest is like another father and a teacher and mentor all in one – he has taught me enough science and philosophy to give me a lifetime of questions to ponder and study. Jonny and Hadji are the brothers I never had, not only in that I love them to death and can't imagine life without them; also, we fit together like the proverbial puzzle pieces. Whether it's shooting hoops with Jonny or meditating with Hadji or working together to design a new computer game from scratch, we work together like we were born together.
> 
> "I'm excited about the prospect of attending Rainier University. I want to find out what kind of home it will be, and what kind of adventure. But, no offense, there's nowhere I'd rather be than here, watching over my family with the wind and sea in my hair.
> 
> "Jonny and Hadji are both applying to Rainier University, too. By chance, does Rainier have a lighthouse?"

 

Jessie counted the words one last time, finally satisfied that her essay met the requirements. She saved the document and sent it out with a small smile. A reply email came almost at once.

_From: Jonny_  
_To: Jessie_  
 _CC: Hadji, Benton, Race_

_RE: All done!  
AAARRRGGGHHH! You beat me by about 15 minutes! –JQ_

All the way up in the lighthouse, Jessie couldn't hear the aggrieved shout she'd won from Jonny, along with winning their bet and thus the next week off from garbage duty, but she knew he'd made that noise for real. Pitching her voice sharply, she called into the soft wind.

"It's not my fault you spent all yesterday playing games!"

A minute or two passed before another email came across.

_From: Hadji_   
_To: Jessie_   
_CC: Benton, Race, Jonny_

_RE: RE: All done!_   
_Jonny is too busy furiously typing the last lines of his essay to respond, but he wishes me to convey that he was not, in fact, playing games. Instead, he was attempting to bypass certain network security codes to ascertain what sort of competition we might be up against in applying for a mid-year placement at Rainier. He also says that it would have gone faster if either of us had been willing to assist him, but I assure you, I have had this discussion about cheating with him already. I shall read over your essay now before I resume work on my own, but I am certain it is excellent as always. –Hadji_

Jessie grinned. The odd mix of verbal and email communication amidst the family had taken on a life of its own with Jonny's Sentinel abilities. Since there were only a few rooms in the house where one wasn't within a yard or two of a computer or laptop or else a direct interface to the Quest system built into the very walls, email had always been a common tool. Sometimes it was useful, like when Doctor Quest had locked himself in one of his sterile rooms and needed to be let out. Sometimes it was important, such as when Race had gotten hurt practicing in the dojo and used the voice-activated computer AI named IRIS to summon help. Mostly, it was trivial-bordering-on-a-bit-silly, like when any one of the three kids wanted a snack and sent a house-wide email to find out who was nearest the kitchen and would they please make a sandwich and bring it up? For years, Hadji had been the designated typist of emails due to being the quickest at a keyboard, so the beginning words of "Jonny says…" or "Race says…" before he repeated whatever had been said with his own twist was a tradition already.

With Jonny online as a Sentinel now, though, he could participate in verbal conversations without even being in the same room. It had started as a sensory awareness game, tuning Jonny's hearing so that he was always at least peripherally aware of the others in the house and able to listen to them without needing to concentrate. Over the course of the summer, it had become convenience itself to assume he heard what was said. These days, it wasn't uncommon for the email exchanges to consist _only_ of Jonny's replies, usually sent through Hadji, to whatever someone had said.

However, Jonny had a tendency to talk while walking around, even leaving the room where he'd begun the response via his brother. So, some of those replies were bellowed from rooms or hallways away, Hadji dutifully transcribing whatever he'd thought he'd heard.

It only took a few of Hadji's _creative_ responses before Jonny took the hint and stopped talking as though everyone else could hear him as clearly as he heard them.

A ping alerted Jessie that another reply had arrived.

_From: Benton_   
_To: Jessie_   
_CC: Race, Jonny, Hadji_

_RE: RE: RE: All done!_   
_The essay looks great, Jessie. I'm flattered you chose to write about our home as your place of peace. It was always a special place to me, too, and even moreso when you came to join us here! I believe this old house will not be the same without you and the boys for the next few years. I don't know off-hand if Rainier has a lighthouse of its own, but I'm certain we can ask Blair when next we see him. Oh, and Jonny? Stop rushing. Your essay will be fine even if it comes an entire hour later than Jessie's. Also, we'll be having words about hacking into university records even to peek at your competition. I hope you're looking forward to raking half the forest this season, son. Hadji? How's yours progressing? Would you like someone to read it before you submit it? –BQ_

Jessie wasn't surprised that Doctor Quest had read her essay so quickly – he was a master of speed-reading. Her father, she expected, was in the middle of something, but when he did read it – and he would – he would give her his feedback in person. She would be gratified for his answer, but it was Doctor Quest's praise that rang highest. If anyone was a judge of a good essay, it was him!

Speaking of which, Jonny's response was almost immediate. That is, Hadji's response for Jonny.

_To: Benton_   
_From: Hadji_   
_CC: Race, Jonny, Jessie_

_RE: RE: RE: RE: All done!_   
_Jonny says, and I quote, "I am NOT rushing!" I offer no evidence to support that statement at this time. As for my own essay, I shall submit it for family approval tomorrow. –Hadji_

"Family approval," Jessie repeated the words aloud. She smiled. Leave it to Hadji's shorthand to come up with a way to carefully not say everything and yet imply it. He wasn't suggesting that the family was required to approve of his essay. Rather, she could read his meaning as being much more complex. Hadji would send his essay, not to brag as Jessie had, nor to prove himself as Jonny would, but to honestly share its contents with the rest. He wasn't looking for justification or praise or even a critical eye to ensure the quality of his writing. Hadji would send his essay to them because it was in his heart and what Hadji held inside him, he shined outwards.

"Maybe sharing with others is a Guide thing. Blair does it, too," Jessie said to herself as she closed the laptop and slid it into her bag. Ever since beginning to work as a Guide to Jonny, the fervent light that had always burned in Hadji seemed brighter, clearer, warmer. For that matter, Jonny seemed happier, too. For all that being a Sentinel was a regular trial on him, his senses slipping from his control at least once a week and needing to be reined in slowly by the skillful help of his Guide, Jonny was never less than totally committed to them and to what they represented.

Jessie stepped down to the door that led back inside, pausing to glance one last time out at the view over the rocky point and the sea beyond. She really would miss it up here in the spring if she got accepted to Rainier.

The panel on the wall just inside beeped at her – it was IRIS telling her that she had received an email and checking if she wanted to access it here. Jessie shouldn't have been surprised, but it won a smile anyway as she brought up the message.

_To: Jessie_   
_From: Jonny_

_RE: "Family approval"_   
_Definitely a Guide thing. They are supposed to be teachers, after all. Lucky us, we got the best one there ever will be. –JQ_

Someone might have read that last line as exaggerating or even sarcastic, but Jessie knew Jonny meant it seriously. He really felt lucky to have Hadji as his Guide, and, more importantly, as his brother and friend. Jessie did too – she was grateful to have this whole family in her life. With the Quests and her father at her back, there was nothing the world could throw at her she couldn't handle. She meant what she'd said in the essay, after all: there was nowhere she wanted to be but watching over her family and knowing they were watching over her in return.

"With a Guide like that," she said aloud, beginning down the long staircase, "maybe we don't need a lighthouse in Cascade. Maybe we just need Hadji. And Blair, too, of course. Between them and the two of us, I bet we can find our way through the storm."

He didn't send another reply, but Jessie could feel Jonny agreeing with her anyway.

-==OOO==-

Blair had a headache.

Lately, Jim had been teasing him that it was the weight of his To Do list that was responsible for the regular ache at his temples and behind his eyes. To which he typically responded with something snappy and dismissive (and sometimes a rude gesture). It was either that or admit that his partner was right.

Blair was being pulled in three different directions, and while his legendary energy was holding him up, it was the weight of all the secrets that really got to him. One third of his life – the university part – had been largely ironed out due to the help and interference of Doctor Quest. Blair had finally won back his position after the board overturned his wrongful dismissal and actually apologized. The damage done to his reputation after the press conference the previous spring hadn't yet been undone, but the fallout from it wasn't as bad as Blair had imagined. He had learned that he had many, many friends at the university, not just students, but also his peers and professors across multiple departments. Now that he had attained his doctorate in full, he was able to lighten his load a bit, focusing on the two parts of academia he loved best – teaching and research. He was listed as an "Adjust Professor" for this fall term, teaching classes but taking none of his own for once.

This had opened up some room in his life for the second task – being Jim's partner with the Cascade PD. He'd lined up his schedule so he had an early morning class three days a week and an afternoon class the other two with one night seminar on Mondays, giving him a great deal of time to be with Jim whenever he was needed. Jim's hours were as erratic as always, from late-night stakeouts to all-day pavement-pounding, but the tension of the previous spring had led to an unexpected advantage: Jim and Blair both knew the Sentinel could work independently. What had been a period of distance and coldness and, on Jim's part, outright refusal to have his partner along, had served as something of an inadvertent test. Though Jim and Blair both felt better working together, they had a great deal less anxiety about leaving the Sentinel without backup for routine tasks. And, of course, Blair had no place with the District Attorney or testifying in court, so Jim tended to schedule those during Blair's classes. They'd always done things that way – it was just easier now.

But it was the last third of Blair's world that kept everything in balance. The office Benton Quest had established for the Sensory Evaluation and Learning Foundation was only a short distance from Rainier, and it was here that Blair kept his office now. It allowed him to hold his office hours in the same place he was doing the vast majority of his research, but it also meant he could be remotely assisting Jim with police work as well; Benton had gotten the SELF office hooked into the police systems as well as the Department of Homeland Security and other governmental networks, not to mention the vast Quest system. By hanging out at the SELF house, Blair could do his own research, work his computer magic for Jim on any given case, advise students, or take a nap. Plus, some combination of the DHS and SELF paid him a solid salary without asking him to maintain specific hours or punch a clock, which eased a whole other set of worries.

But if that was the advantage of introducing his work with SELF to his life, it came with major disadvantages too. Blair described it to Jim once.

"It feels like walking a tightrope while holding onto a flaming baton," he'd said with a grimace. "There's so many ways I could slip up and either get burned or go crashing down, and it's all I can do to keep focused on moving forward."

It really was a delicate balance. At school, Blair knew he was still under significant suspicion, if not of his academic dishonesty, then of what was "really" going on, doubly so with his known association with SELF and its provocative name and mission. People were starting to think his whole theory about Sentinels must have something to it, because otherwise why would he be working with a group dedicated to studying senses, a group connected with the government? Blair had to navigate carefully, never saying too much, but saying just enough so if a student ever actually wanted to come to SELF for help, Sentinel-type help, the hints would be there.

However, at the police station, it was the total opposite, a veritable "don't ask, don't tell" about every bit of it. Simon knew, of course, and Blair was fairly sure the rest of Major Crimes suspected something, but that was it. There had been griping when he had first returned to Jim's side, including some pretty serious anger directed his way by officers who felt he'd betrayed his partner, but it had died down over time as the story of Blair's involvement with the DHS had spread. Jim had overheard a pair of uniforms gossiping about Blair, and the rumor-du-jour seemed to be that Blair had been roped into something to do with the government trying to create super soldiers based on Jim Ellison and using Blair to gather intelligence.

This amused Jim to no end, even though it was vaguely true if totally inaccurate.

But the continual scrutiny and genuine morass of secrets was taking its toll on Blair regardless. He'd developed a sort of internal checklist every time he was asked about Sentinels or the press conference or SELF. He had to be careful to drop the right hints to the right people to make sure any genuine Sentinels or partial Sentinels knew about SELF and came to him for help, but not actually give away Jim's secret or burn any more of his own credibility. He could affirm he had worked with the DHS, but he also had to be careful people didn't assume he was a spy for the government. He could speak vaguely about the purpose of SELF, but he couldn't actually out and say "we're looking to find Sentinels around the world and help them."

It would give anybody a headache. Blair was no exception.

"Huuuugghhhhhnnnnffff," he groaned inarticulately, tearing off his glasses and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He felt the sudden desire to bang his head on the desk _really hard_ , but settled for letting his elbows slide until he pillowed his forehead on his hands, the cool wood smooth under his cheek.

"Blair?"

"Huuuuuhhh?" He drew out the syllable questioningly without lifting his head.

"You okay?" Joel sounded worried, so Blair looked up. The bullpen was mostly empty, everybody gone for the evening, but the alternate Major Crimes captain had remained.

Blair shifted back into sitting upright, trying to smile. "Yeah. Just tired."

"I can see that," Joel said dryly. "You should think about getting more sleep, son."

"It's not the sleep," Blair shook his head, privately warmed at the man's concern. "It's everything else. Besides, what do they say? 'Sleep is for the weak?'"

"I think they mean the other kind of week, Chief," Jim appeared beside him. "As in, you shouldn't take that Sunday-as-a-day-of-rest thing to mean Sunday is the _only_ day of rest."

Blair rolled his eyes. Then he rolled his shoulders to work out some of the tension. Before he'd quite gotten one full rotation in, he felt Jim's large hands begin to work the tension from his neck. Blair stopped moving and relaxed happily into the expert grip. _Jim could make a killing as a masseur_ , he thought. _Way to put those Sentinel senses to work, buddy_!

Over his head, Jim was addressing Joel even as he used his touch to find and slowly relax each spot of soreness from his partner's shoulders. "We just got back the final forensics on that double homicide," he said. "Open and shut case, for once. Now I just have to file all the reports so the DA can move."

"I can do that," Blair woke up enough from the impromptu massage to offer.

Jim squeezed once comfortingly before returning to his efforts. "Nah. This one's really straightforward, and thanks to your notes there isn't much actual typing to do. I just have to copy everything over. But Simon wants it done tonight."

Blair couldn't help the small groan he let out, partly because that meant waiting around watching Jim try to work the computer for a couple of hours and partly because Jim had found a lump the size of a golf ball under one of his shoulder-blades and was ruthlessly breaking it apart.

"You rode in with Jim after lunch, right?" Joel looked at Blair. "I could give you a lift home if you want. Spare you hanging around here any longer than necessary."

Blair glanced up at Jim. "Would you mind?"

Jim snorted and shook his head. "You don't need my permission to go home, Sandburg. And you could probably use it. Yeah, head out with Joel and I'll be along soon. I'll even pick up takeout so you can just snooze for a while. Sound good?"

"Better than good," Blair admitted. He would probably mediate rather than sleep, but some calm and quiet was exactly what he needed. He smiled at Joel. "Thanks, man. Seriously."

"Any time, Blair." Joel smiled gently. "I'm ready whenever you are."

" _So_ ready!" But Blair was obliged to wait a few moments while Jim finished loosening up his neck before he let his partner up. Blair shoved his things into his backpack and didn't even wince when it pulled on his shoulders. "See you at home, Jim!"

Joel drove a big, comfy SUV, and Blair practically melted into the plush seat as soon as he had clambered aboard. "I know Jim loves his truck," he said as Joel started the engine and headed out of the underground parking lot, "but there is something to be said for a nice new car!"

"This from the guy who wouldn't buy a _new_ car if his life depended on it?" Joel teased. "I've seen what you drive, kid."

"Hey, it might be an old classic, but it's a _comfortable_ classic!"

They bantered cheerfully as Joel steered his way towards the loft. But Blair could see a question lurking in Joel's eyes. Sure enough, when they stopped at a red light, he cleared his throat. "Hey, Blair?"

"Yeah?"

"Is there…something you want to tell me?" Joel said slowly. He turned to make eye-contact.

Blair felt a lump rise in his throat. Joel was one of the hands-down kindest men Blair had ever had the rare honor to know, and all that kindness was turned on him now. He felt his heart speed up a bit and was grateful Jim wasn't around to hear. Fishing for time, Blair coughed and said, "What do you mean?"

The light turned, but Joel put the hazard lights on and stayed put. "You know there's nothing you could say that would make me think less of you, don't you Blair? That you could trust me, no matter what?"

"Yes," Blair said around the lump in his throat. "I know that."

"Jim, too," Joel said intently. "You've both saved my life too many times and been too good of friends for me to not support you, no matter what anybody else might think."

_Oh, man_ , Blair winced internally. There was no good direction for this conversation to go. Either Joel had some ideas about Blair and Jim's…personal lives, which he did not want to discuss, or he had suspicions about the whole Sentinel thing, which he _really_ did not want to discuss. He cast about for a quick distraction.

"Hey, do you see that?" he pointed past Joel to the shop on the other side of the street.

"Not falling for it, Sandburg," Joel rumbled good-naturedly.

Real alarm sparked in Blair. "No, man, I'm not kidding!"

Joel was just turning to look when the front window burst outwards in a ball of flame.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI the essay topic in the previous chapter is an actual one from the common form of the college application from the 2014 application year. I even did the wordcount. Because I'm a nerd.
> 
> Enjoy!

"My candle burns at both ends," Blair recited miserably. "Figures."

He was sitting on the curb wrapped in an ambulance blanket. Around him, emergency services swarmed, the fire department having just about gotten the sudden fire under control and the cops – of which there appeared to be a suspiciously large number – taking statements. Blair had already given his along with Joel to the first cops on scene, after which he had given an almighty cough, alarming Joel who only too well remembered the previous fall and his near death. That had meant a paramedic checking him out completely and forcing the blanket on him.

"We were in the car!" Blair protested to nobody in particular. "If the car didn't get more than some mild shrapnel and a little bit of soot, what _exactly_ do you expect to find in my _eye_ with that little penlight of doom?" The nearest paramedic, one Blair had had cause to meet once too many times while on cases with Jim, glanced back at him and shrugged apologetically.

Then there was a familiar screech of wheels and a slamming door. " _Sandburg_!"

"Jim, I'm fine!" Blair yelled, getting to his feet and dropping the blanket in a heap.

Undeterred, his Sentinel strode through the chaos straight to his Guide. His nose wrinkled with the scent of soot and ash and burnt wood and stone all over Blair's clothes. He put a hand on his partner's shoulder, reflexively cataloging him with all available senses. Blair's heart-rate was a little elevated, but normal, his temperature seemed fine, and Jim couldn't smell any blood or burned flesh on him. There was a hitch in his respiration he didn't like, though.

"We need to get you away from the smoke," Jim declared. He began to pull on Blair's arm.

"Oh, come on man! Nothing happened!" Blair tried hard not to look at anybody. Even after years, Blair had never quite gotten over his embarrassment when Jim went all mother hen on him in front of everybody. "There are definite drawbacks to this Blessed Protector thing," he muttered lowly.

"I heard that," Jim returned.

"Of course you did." Blair set his feet and met his Sentinel's gaze. "Seriously. Jim. I'm okay." He held out his arms. "We were all the way across the street inside Joel's ride. Neither of us got a scratch."

"He's right, Jim," Joel said as he joined them. "We're okay. Just some kind of freak thing."

"They think it was deliberate?" Jim asked, tipping his head to the fire inspectors at one side. They wouldn't go in until the last of the fire had been put out and it was declared safe, but they were already making notes.

"Nah," Joel shook his head. "Looks like a gas leak."

"How can you tell?" Blair asked curiously.

"They started using foam," Joel gestured. "That means there was something like an accelerant at work so they needed to deal with the chemicals behind it first."

"So it could be arson," Jim said darkly.

Joel shrugged. "Maybe. But a gas leak is a lot more likely. Anyway, even if it is arson, it's not our case." His gaze sharpened. "Jim, there's no way this had anything to do with Blair and me. You know that."

Jim had to acknowledge that he was probably right. There would have been no way for someone to know in advance that Joel would be driving this particular road, nor that Blair would be with him. Maybe it was just a gas leak. Maybe it was arson. But it probably wasn't personal either way.

"I'm sorry, Blair," Joel was saying as Jim came out of his reflections. "If I hadn't stopped…"

"Not a big deal," Blair offered with a smile. "Just life in the Sandburg Zone, right?" He elbowed his partner playfully.

Jim felt some of the frisson of tension that had knotted up inside him from the moment he'd gotten the call that his partner was involved in a fire finally begin to ease. Blair was here, he was safe, he was unhurt, and even that rattle in his lungs from smoke inhalation would probably clear up on its own. He made himself smile and ruffle Blair's hair. "Something like that. Come on, Chief. I still owe you dinner."

"Yes you do!" Blair grinned. He turned to Joel. "Thanks for trying to give me a ride, man. I still appreciate it."

"Like I said, anytime, Blair." Then Joel's look grew solemn. "Remember that you're a good friend, and you can always count on me."

Blair nodded and let Jim lead him away. He was oddly grateful to the unexpected fire – it had spared him trying to answer Joel. By the time they reached the truck and Blair climbed in, already missing Joel's much softer seats, he was ready to let the freak coincidence pass without another thought.

But he had a feeling he couldn't so easily avoid talking to Joel next time.

"What was that thing about candles you were saying?" Jim broke into his thoughts.

"What?" Blair had to regroup to remember. "Oh, that. It's a poem by Edna St Vincent Millay." He closed his eyes and recited the verse from memory.

_My candle burns at both ends;_  
_It will not last the night;_  
 _But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—_  
 _It gives a lovely light!_

"Is that what's happening?" Jim asked, voice oddly soft.

Blair blinked. "What's happening?"

"You," Jim said. "Burning your candle at both ends until you're all used up. Maybe all this stuff is just too much."

_Oh, great_ , Blair thought to himself. _Attack of the mother hen – the return_. "Look, I admit I've been out of it lately, but I'm fine. Really!"

Jim glanced across at his friend and considered. He didn't need Sentinel sight to know Blair had looked better than he did now, not including the soot from the fire. Jim wasn't sure exactly where the feeling to wrap his Guide up and make him feel better came from, and he was having trouble resisting it.

What he said was, "Well, maybe you should take it easy for a few days. Cut back somewhere."

"Cut back _where_?" Blair demanded. "Classes just started, so I can't back out of teaching now. And you _know_ why I can't let up on my work for SELF."

"Yeah, but I don't need you at the station all the time right now," Jim answered. "There's no cases going on that I can't handle the old-fashioned way without being a Sentinel. Honestly, Chief, if I need you, there isn't a lot right now that you couldn't do from the SELF office. And you'd have more time for everything else."

Blair couldn't come up with a good logical argument to the contrary, and right then he had a pretty good reason to avoid Joel anyway. So he nodded. "Okay. I'll take a week or so and hunker down at SELF with schoolwork. But you gotta promise to call me in if you need me. No running off without backup, Guide backup to be specific."

Jim smiled. "Wouldn't dream of it, Sandburg."

-==OOO==-

There was an unusual lull at the Quest compound.

"Downright unsettling," Race said, looking up from the paper he was reading. "I can count on one hand the number of times those three have been around the house for more than a week without getting into some kind of mess – and I don't mean their rooms."

"They're busy preparing for a new kind of adventure," Benton smiled. "You should be proud of their diligence."

"Oh, I am," Race affirmed easily, "but I also know better. I'm just waiting for the shoe to drop."

"Don't borrow trouble," Benton shook his head. "You don't want that shoe to come as a rejection letter."

Race grimaced. Over the summer, Jessie, Jonny, and Hadji had taken it into their heads to apply for admission to Rainier University the following spring. Race and Benton had both spoken to them – at length – about whether that was the right decision. After all, they would miss out on their last spring as seniors in high school, including all the things seniors usually did from prom to parties. But they had argued eloquently that they wanted and needed to be in Cascade sooner than later, that SELF was already coming together rapidly and Jim and Blair would need help, that Hadji wasn't a regular student anyway, that none of them cared about prom or parties, and that they were all but able to graduate anyway and didn't want to waste time stuck in the wrong classroom. In the face of such ardent and practiced reason, both fathers had surrendered.

It meant, however, now that they had successfully applied to Rainier, they were filling their days with all the tests that were normally offered in the spring to assign placement, as well as doing some independent studies to round out their credits. It was only mid-September, but the three had practically moved into their favorite library, working single-mindedly on their tasks. Even Jonny's exuberance had been totally tempered by his dedication to going with Jessie and Hadji to Cascade in the spring. But then, they all knew that if any one of the three failed to complete their requirements and gain admission, none of them could go.

It was just one more law of the universe. Gravity works, Jonny is responsible for feeding Bandit, energy cannot be created or destroyed, nobody interrupts Hadji while he's meditating unless it's an emergency, entropy always increases, girl jokes are forbidden or Jessie will counterattack, all chemical processes are by necessity reversible, breakfast in the Quest house is an un-missable sacrament. And Jessie, Jonny, and Hadji stay together. They had their own friends and their own interests, and they had gone on trips without one another before, and that was all fine. But for the big moves, the life-changing decisions, there would be no parting them.

That was the reason all three were so dedicated – not one could stand to hold the other two back.

Benton rubbed a hand over his eyes and pushed away from the computer he'd been staring at all day. Race raised an eyebrow, but Benton shook his head. The scientist moved to sit on the couch beside his best friend, reaching to the small drawer in the coffee table and drawing out a white noise generator. Ignoring Race's surprise, he flicked it on.

"I thought those were only for emergencies," Race commented. "In case Jonny was being overwhelmed."

"I think you were the one who taught me to use whatever came to hand in the art of self-defense," Benton said wryly. "I'm simply following your instructions."

"Self-defense? What's going on, Doc?"

"There's good news and bad news," Benton sat back. "The good news is that I think I've found the first Sentinels that could really use SELF's intervention."

Race waited. Sounded to him like the dropping shoe was on in five.

"The bad news," Benton let out a breath, "is that they're in Fokino, Russia."

"Benton," Race sighed, "pretend I don't know the name of every city on the planet like you do for a minute and tell me why that's bad."

"Fokino is a closed city. It's forbidden for tourists to enter without permits, and it's heavily guarded at all times because it's the base for the Russian pacific fleet. The whole city is like a fortress, even though it's a city with its own economy and everything. You can't get in or out without the government knowing your every move."

Benton rubbed his forehead again. "But it's also one of the places Russia sends its Sentinels after they've passed their prime. Between what I've learned from my own research and my connections, I'd say there are several dozen Sentinels there, most still active servicemen and servicewomen, but no longer able to be deployed in high-stress environments such as other closed cities that house nuclear weapons bases."

"If it's so closed, how would we even expect to get there?" Race wanted to know.

"Well, there's a nearby island that's technically part of the city but open to tourists. I'm pretty sure we could get there without any trouble. And because it's a port city, we also have a good chance of being able to help people leave if they choose to come with us, and after that it's just logistics to get them to Cascade."

"It still sounds like breaking into a gulag and trying to get a few people past the guards without becoming inmates ourselves," Race said archly.

"That's why I turned that on," Benton gestured at the white noise generator. "It's the kind of adventure there's no way those kids wouldn't try to come with us. But it's too dangerous. If we get accused of trying to help active soldiers defect and escape with us, even with all the back-room dealing I've been working on, we could face a death sentence. There's _no way_ we're bringing the kids in on that."

"I agree," Race nodded. "But this sounds like you've decided you're going to stick your neck out on this one."

"I think I have."

Race counted to ten in his mind. Then he did it again in Spanish. Then again in Japanese. Then, with knowing foreboding, once more in Russian. Finally he said, "Are you absolutely sure you know what you're doing?"

"Honestly?" Benton looked at Race with a small smile. "No. But what I do know is that those soldiers have been hobbled for their whole lives and are just one bad zone-out away from being bought and sold, maybe into forced labor or worse. This is _exactly_ the reason we founded SELF and got the DHS involved. They are people who deserve a choice. And I have one to offer them. Besides, I should have enough influence to keep us from prison. I think."

Race pinched the bridge of his nose. "Now I remember where Jonny gets that stubborn do-gooder streak of his."

"I won't ask you to come with me, Race," Benton said. "I know it's going to be dangerous."

" _Yes_ it's going to be _dangerous_ , which is _exactly_ why I _am_ coming with you!" Race snapped. "There's no way I'm letting you go anywhere near there without backup. Not on something like this. If I have to bring in the entire Pacific branch of the Navy to get us out, you better bet I'll do it!"

"Thanks, Race," Benton smiled tiredly.

"So how are you going to keep those kids from coming with us?" he wanted to know.

"Easy," Benton shrugged, but his friend could see the worry and stress already building in the tight lines of his shoulders. "We give them enough truth to convince them, and not quite enough to worry them. It won't be the first time."

"No, it won't," Race agreed, shaking his head fondly.

That evening at dinner, Benton announced that he had been asked to meet a contact in eastern Russia to talk about SELF, and the meeting would take place in an extremely remote location to ensure their safety. As he played up the lack of technology and the insistence that he bring no computers with him, Race had to fight not to give away the game; the kids were absolutely torn between wanting to go with him and not wanting to be unable to continue their studies. But the more Benton droned on about the logistics, the more the kids seemed to back down. It sure didn't sound like the kind of thing they would really need to be there for, and with their schoolwork, well…

When Benton suggested that the three could take a break from studying while they were gone, just for one weekend, to camp out in the woods, they folded like a house of cards.

_Game, set, and match, Benton_ , Race thought to himself. _Looks like we're heading to Fokino_.

-==OOO==-

A familiar beep at his hip caused Jim to look up from the paperwork he'd been trying to process, though he mainly felt like cursing at all reports, computers, and maybe even pencils just to be safe. He'd been spoiled by having Blair around to help him navigate the so-called modern improvements with his ease with computers and his lightning-quick typing speed.

_Speaking of modern improvements_ , Jim thought with a small smile, digging the phone from his pocket.

It was a satellite phone unlike any other he'd ever seen, designed and built specifically by Benton Quest to work as a phone, a miniature computer, and a host of other gadgets all in one. Unlike the bulky thing Jim had used before, this was a sleek, small device with only the barest ridges that indicated buttons. The whole family had them, and they had extended one each as a gift to Jim and Blair. "After all," Jonny had grinned, "we're kind of like cousins!"

Jim ran a few fingers over the screen, the phone recognizing him by fingerprint and revealing the message that had been sent.

_Progress being made. Situation stable.—Race_

Jim nodded to himself. When he had learned about Benton's plan to go to Russia and try to "liberate" some Sentinels – active, military Sentinels – Jim had _not_ been pleased. The only part of the plan he _had_ approved of was keeping the kids out of it. His respect for the trio hadn't diminished any, but what Sandburg would have called his protective instincts had grown hugely. The situation felt okay to him, but he still didn't want them anywhere near it. Or Sandburg himself, for that matter; Blair had only agreed to be left behind because Jim had pointed out that Benton absolutely needed somebody to hold down the SELF fort while he was away.

But every twelve hours, like clockwork, Race or Benton had promised to message them both to confirm that they were all right, and thus far they hadn't missed yet. It reminded Jim a little uncomfortably of his promise with Blair in Borneo only a few months prior – and how that had ended. But this time, like then, the only thing Jim could do was focus on his job and, if things went south, be ready to hop on a plane.

And he was.

"Hi Jim!" came a cheerful voice.

Jim slid the phone out of sight and smiled up at his most frequent visitor these days. "Hi Daryl. How's it going today?"

"It's fine," Daryl smiled. "Dad said you might need some help with your paperwork?"

"Oh, he did, did he?" Jim raised an eyebrow and turned to glare into Simon's office. The stalwart Captain Banks found something incredibly fascinating on the surface of his desk to stare at intently.

"Yeah! I bet Blair did most of your typing, huh?" Daryl didn't quite snicker at the ire being directed at his father. "I'm not bad at a keyboard. And I need something to do for the afternoon. Besides, nobody's shown me this part, yet."

"Daryl, if you are so ready to start learning about paperwork, I am more than happy to relinquish the hot seat to you," Jim said gallantly, rolling his chair backwards and pulling the one at Sandburg's desk forward. He slid into position at his partner's place, smiling anew at the fact that Blair finally had a real desk of his own, right next to Jim. It was a little small and cramped, and as often as not they ended up bumping their chairs into one another, but it meant a lot to them both that Simon had made sure the deal struck with the Mayor and Police Commissioner had included treating Sandburg like a full consultant, complete with his own space.

Something caught Jim's attention and he looked back up to Simon's office. Extending his hearing, he was just in time to hear Simon's order. "Bore him, Jim. Bore him to death if you have to."

Jim sketched Simon a small salute while Daryl looked over the forms on the screen. Daryl had won an internship for two months at the Cascade PD. Simon was less than pleased – he still wanted his son to get what he called a "real education" by attending college and not follow him down the dangerous path of a police officer. The unwritten rule that had passed around the building on Daryl's first day had been short and simple: make the kid loath police work.

So far, it didn't seem to be working.

Dedicating himself to his captain's cause, Jim began describing the tedious nature of the reports he was trying to complete, the level of detail required, the multiple copies and sign-offs and approvals. And if he was secretly pleased that Daryl showed the same kind of interested curiosity Jim's partner had on his first round, well, Simon didn't need to know about that.

-==OOO==-

The week of quiet – minus the argument with Jim about whether or not Blair should go with Benton and Race to try to help Russian Sentinels; that had not been quiet at all – had gone a huge way towards restoring some of Blair's energy. It really wasn't the police _work_ that bothered him so, not after so many years. It was dealing with being at the police _station_ , and all the rumors and funny looks and half-lies he had to deal with.

On the positive side, Blair had gotten an absolute ton of writing done whenever he wasn't helping Jim with the latest case or talking to students or teaching – the manuscript he was personally calling "The Care and Feeding of Sentinels" even though it was at least as much about Guides as it was about Sentinels – had come a long way in just a few days of work. Blair had his dissertation, of course, but this was sort of his "next step" book that covered everything from what he had learned from Jaga in Borneo to his evolving understanding of his own role in Jim's life. It was imperative that Blair get enough of his ideas down into a useful format before SELF started gaining traction – and Sentinels – in the wider world.

He was just finishing up his first draft of a section on spirit animals when the phone rang. Glancing at the number displayed by Caller ID, he grinned. He picked up the phone with a flourish.

"Doctor Sandburg's office, Blair speaking. How may I direct your call?" he spoke with arch humor.

"You never tire of that, do you, my friend?" returned the warm, proper voice of Hadji Quest.

"Aw, I got over being called 'doctor' the first time one of Jim's suspects tried to get me to look at a gross lesion on his…never mind," Blair coughed. "But I _love_ having the office."

A quiet snort was the only evidence of Hadji's laugh.

"So, what's going on?" Blair continued. A pause on the line drew a drop of ice into his stomach. "What's wrong?"

"It's Jonny," Hadji said lowly. "His senses are…unreliable."

"How so?"

"They seem to come and go, with greater emphasis on the 'go.' He might pass three hours with nothing beyond normal human range and only a few minutes of Sentinel abilities." Hadji's tone was controlled and calm, if a little tense, but Blair knew him better than that. He knew how to listen for the cracks in the younger man's ever-present serenity, and from what he could hear, any other person would be shaking apart.

"How long has it been happening?" Blair asked, truly alarmed now.

"We went camping, just us and Jessie, over the weekend. It started there and it hasn't stopped yet." Given that today was Tuesday, that didn't sound good.

"How soon can you get to Cascade?" Blair was already reaching for his computer and shooting an SOS email to Jim. With Benton and Race out of the country, the kids literally had nowhere else to go for help, not that Blair would have wanted them turning anywhere but to their Sentinel-Guide friends.

"We're in the airport now catching a connection in a few minutes," Hadji replied. "We should arrive in approximately four hours. I hope you can forgive our presumption but…"

"But nothing!" Blair cut him off. "I won't even give you the lecture about how your dad set up this Foundation _specifically_ to deal with this sort of thing. We're friends, aren't we? You and me and Jim and Jonny and Jessie and Benton and Race?"

"I am certainly honored to think so." There was a touch of warm relief leaking through Hadji's tension.

"Then it's not a presumption to ask for help from the people you trust. I ask your dad for stuff all the time. And even if I didn't, Jim has some kind of protective complex about you guys. Get here as soon as you can. We'll meet you at the airport."

"Thank you, Blair." Hadji let out a long, soft breath. "Between Jonny and myself, I do not know who is more worried, or who is more relieved."

"See you in a few," Blair promised.

As soon as the phone clicked, he was dialing Jim.

"Ellison."

"Jim, did you see my email?"

"I just sat down. What's going on, Chief?"

"Jonny and Hadji are on their way. Something's happening to Jonny's senses and they need help. Hadji didn't say anything, but you're not the only one with good ears. He's totally freaked out."

There was a short pause before Jim answered, his tone firm. "I'll tell Simon. I just have to finish up the last reports on the drug bust and I should be in the clear for a little while – Rafe can take any new cases that come in. How soon will they be here?"

"Four hours." Blair felt his heart, which had begun pounding the instant he realized something was really wrong with his friends, start to calm. "I said we'd meet them at the airport."

"That'll give me plenty of time to finish up here. I'll swing by the loft to switch out the truck and meet you at your office when I'm done."

Blair nodded, though even a Sentinel couldn't see that through the phone. "I'll grab my notes. The lodge is empty right now, so we'll have all the space we need."

"Call me if anything changes," Jim said curtly. He hung up a moment later.

Blair began sweeping through the office pulling notebooks and bound journals and copies from their places and jamming them into his bag. There were hours before he'd need to be ready to go, but the movement gave him something to do to dispel his anxiousness. He could almost see Jim staring at his computer screen as though it had made a mess on his carpets, typing as fast as he could with unusual force. Though Jim had been practical and detached through every word of their conversation, after five years Blair knew his partner like he knew himself. Jim responded to stress by approaching a problem with focus and cool logic, but that wasn't what was inside him.

He might never let it show, but Jim was just as worried about their young friends as Blair was.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! Made it! Thought for sure I'd be late again. Sorry about that!
> 
> This chapter includes a reference to the JQ:TRA episode "Assault on Questworld" just as an FYI.
> 
> Enjoy!

"I still think we should have called Doctor Quest," Jessie said, looking across Hadji to where Jonny was wedged in the small seat against the window. They'd been lucky to get three seats together on their commercial flights, but that only slightly made up for the cramped conditions.

"No way," Jonny shook his head. "Not for something like this."

"I am certain he would wish to know," Hadji said softly.

"He'd _worry_ ," Jonny returned. "And he can't be distracted right now. It sounded like this meeting is really, really important. We all know that dad _thinks_ he's a master of compartmentalization when it comes to stuff like this, but he really isn't." He smiled a little. "Besides, it's not really that bad."

Jessie raised an eloquently arched eyebrow.

Jonny held up his hands. "I'm not saying it's not a problem. But it's not like I'm actually sick or hurt. And I'm not even having dangerous spikes. It's an _absence_ , not an overload."

"For now," Hadji said.

"Besides," Jonny ignored his brother, "dad would tell us to call Blair and to get to Cascade so he could help us, which is what we're doing. It's not like this is the worst thing to happen to us without them knowing about it."

"I don't know about you," Jessie frowned, "but I _still_ have calluses from our house-painting punishment for not telling them about that time Surd tried to take over the compound while they were in the Himalayas."

"And like I said then, we're just protecting my dad from the harsh realities of the world."

Hadji sighed. "We're never going to win this argument."

Jonny's blue eyes met Hadji's brown for an anxious moment. Jonny knew that if Hadji truly asked, truly wanted him to call their father, he would relent. He could not really deny Hadji anything, and he also respected that while he personally might not want to worry his dad, he couldn't actually come between Hadji and the only parent he had ever known. Hadji's bond with his adopted father was as important to Jonny as his own, and since childhood he had aggressively made sure to defend Hadji as his brother and as Doctor Benton Quest's son. Jonny might tussle with his dad, but when Hadji asked him to stop, he always did.

But Hadji smiled at his brother and shook his head. "As Race has often said, a man must choose his battles wisely. I believe the greater wisdom lies in trusting you, my friend, to know best what you wish for your own senses."

Jessie sighed, accepting that Hadji had a point – they were Jonny's senses and he should get final say over who knew what about them. But she still looked at him and crossed her arms.

"Okay, I'll go along with it, but I'm warning you, Jonny. If either of our dads decides on another round of house-painting for leaving them out of the loop, you are on your own this time!"

"On the plus side," Jonny pointed out with a smile, "Jim and Blair will be in the same boat with us. And I'd absolutely love to see our dads force Jim into painting _anything_."

"Speaking of which," Hadji pointed out as he looked past Jonny's shoulder out the window, "we appear to have arrived."

-==OOO==-

Jim stood quietly beside Blair, watching the arrivals gate for their friends. He glanced down to see the slight smile tugging at his partner's lips and huffed.

"Still love 'em!" Blair said cheerfully.

"Still hate 'em," Jim replied dryly.

It was an old argument. Blair had a deep and abiding affection for airports. He saw them as gateways to adventures and new places and exploration and discovery and learning. Jim figured this had as much to do with his history of traveling around as it did with the number of times he had met his mother at a random airport somewhere in the world. But also, Blair loved people-watching. The whole spectrum of humanity flowing around him, similarities never clearer, differences never more robust. And, of course, he could watch the joy on display as people geared up for a trip they'd waited their whole lives for, or as people greeted loved ones after a separation.

Jim, on the other hand, despised all airports. They were loud, chaotic, overly-chemicaled places filled with potential threats and thieves. Plus, where Sandburg watched joyful reunions, Jim was much more aware of angrily screaming babies sore from pressure changes in their sensitive ears, exhausted men and women dreading either their flight or their arrival, sharp-tempered travelers who had been bounced all over by canceled flights, and the propensity of the people to be more likely to glare than smile at a stranger. He truly pitied those who worked at airports – they spent their days being yelled at, trying to show politeness to people too tired or stressed or impatient to return in kind, and having to live in stiff, awkward uniforms in a place so controlled even the air was laden with chemicals. He wondered often whether it was their bodies or their souls that got polluted first.

His hearing only open a fraction above normal in deference to the jet engine noises outside, Jim still perceived the three kids long before he could see them make the turn to the security checkpoint. Jessie was voicing some kind of comment about the strange choice of music playing. Jim stiffened when Jonny responded that he hadn't noticed – he could hear it, he was saying, but it wasn't enough to stick out to him and he didn't really feel anything with this Sentinel hearing.

If Jonny wasn't aware of the screaming jets on the runways and the loud babble of many conversations and the overly loud rock music playing, he really had lost his senses.

A moment later, they rounded the last corner, spotting Jim easily in the crowd.

"Hi you guys!" Blair greeted them cheerfully, as though they were only here for a friendly visit. But his eyes moved from Jessie to Hadji to Jonny and his expression morphed into concern. "Are you okay?"

"Sure," Jonny shrugged, unperturbed. "Just kind of…you know. Normal."

He said it easily and flippantly, but Jim opened his senses to listen to his heart-beat and knew differently. The kid was scared.

Jim dropped an arm around his shoulders and started to walk towards the parking lot. "Come on. We'll figure it out."

Outside, they weaved through the many lanes of traffic to where Jim had spotted a fantastic spot right at the edge of the big parking complex.

"Be grateful," Blair said from behind. "You don't all fit in the truck, so we get this ride instead."

Jim unlocked the sleek, brand new van. "It's not mine," he said almost defensively. "Benton bought it for SELF so we could haul you guys and your dads around when you all come out together. I'd still rather be in my truck."

"We don't mind riding in the back of a pickup," Jonny offered.

"No seatbelts," Blair said as he jumped into the passenger side. "And believe me, with Jim driving, you'll want them."

Jim swatted his partner's head while he watched the kids climb aboard. All three carried a backpack and Jonny had an additional duffle bag, but they had no other luggage so they fit easily in the vast space. As soon as they were in, Jonny set the duffle on the floor and opened it.

"Figures he's still asleep," Jonny said with a smirk. "Bandit travels so much, he equates airplanes with naptime."

"You brought Bandit?" Blair was a little surprised. He spun around in his seat to peek at the snoozing dog in the carrier.

"Of course," Hadji answered. "Where Jonny goes, unless it is simply too dangerous, Bandit follows."

"You Quests are quite an entourage," Jim commented.

Jessie, even though she was technically a Bannon, met his eyes in the rear-view mirror and smiled. "Yes, we are."

The drive through Cascade was mostly quiet. Blair was practically squirming in his seat from his desire to learn more about what was happening with the younger Sentinel, but by unspoken accord they were waiting until they reached the lodge for the serious conversations. Jim instead pointed out certain things of interest as they passed them, including the police station, the basic direction of the loft, and Rainier's main campus.

To his surprise, all three kids seemed knowledgeable about the area, asking specific questions about streets and how they might get from one to the other. At his confusion, Hadji explained.

"We make it a practice wherever we go to commit at least the major thoroughfares to memory, along with any locations we expect to visit. We have spent much time in many different cities, and one does not wish to be lost when one has the choice to find oneself."

Blair nodded. "Yup, I used to do the same thing. Always know your compass directions, major landmarks, and where to find a hospital, a police station, and a grocery store."

"And a library, which is likely to have access to the internet," Jessie added.

"And a hardware store," Jonny put in.

"Why that?" Jim wanted to know.

Jonny grinned. "If you knew how much equipment we break on every single trip and have to rebuild or replace, you'd understand. I can fix almost anything with some good tools and duct tape, but you got to know where to find it."

"Well," Jim smiled back, "if you think the lodge isn't well stocked to your standards, let me know. I'm not sure it's provisioned for the kind of trouble you three seem to get into."

As they followed the winding roads up into the mountains, Blair and Jim fielded various questions about the lodge – the Quests knew all about it from a theoretical perspective, but they hadn't seen it in person yet. They'd claimed their rooms from the floor-plan after knowing what Jim and Blair had chosen, but they'd never actually been there.

"Will there be a lot of agents on site?" Jessie wanted to know.

"Not more than a handful," Blair answered. "And they aren't staying at the lodge. They're split up around the perimeter in the gatehouses. If we stay near the main area, we probably won't see them."

"Good," Jonny said quietly. He didn't have to elaborate – they all understood he didn't want to be seen fighting with his senses by strangers.

When they turned off onto the narrow road that led into the woods, everyone went quiet. It wasn't until they had passed through the secure gate and gotten within sight of the lodge itself that the silence was broken. Bandit picked that moment to yip brightly.

"Yes, we're here, boy," Jonny pet him, unable to quite quell the nervousness that was filling him up.

Hadji wordlessly reached over and gripped his arm.

"All right," Jim said as he pulled the van up beside the lodge. "Let's get your stuff upstairs and then we'll talk."

Bandit eagerly started exploring this new territory, discretely marking it as he went, but he stayed at Jonny's side once they entered the building. Jim led the way, carrying his own bag of overnight stuff he'd brought just in case. The nice thing about the way the lodge was built was that there was sort of a central structure along with wings down either side. The central structure was built around the greatroom downstairs, and all the rooms on the upper levels opened onto wide balconies that had unobstructed views across and down so someone (probably Jim) could stand outside his room and watch over anyone within the greatroom or the hallways. The building went on to either side with wings of rooms that were a little more closed off, but from there Jim could also see well down either hallway. The lines of sight had been built very carefully to account for Sentinels and their instinctive need to watch their territory. Warm sunlight filtered down from a few skylights above, and though empty and quiet, the whole building still felt open and comfortable and safe.

Jim opened the door to the rooms he and Blair shared long enough to chuck his bag into the closet before he went back out to the open hallway. Hadji was digging out the key to the suite of rooms he would share with Jonny. Jim noticed the pair of them studiously ignoring the bright nameplate on their door that read, "Sentinel Jonny Quest, Guide Hadji Quest – SELF Founders." Jessie, two doors down, grinned at her own name beside her father's, also listed as founders of SELF. Only Benton's was different. His read, "Benton Quest – Distinguished Chancellor and Founder of SELF." It hadn't been what Benton had intended for himself, but Race and Blair had interceded. Jim had agreed; the guy making everything around them possible deserved some kind of recognition as more than just a "founder."

Jim hadn't actually looked in any of the rooms besides his own and the one Simon had claimed next to himself and Sandburg; Simon's room was arranged the same way Jim and Blair's had been with two small bedrooms and a central area. But as he followed Jonny and Hadji, he was surprised to find that their space was actually one big room only split by low half-walls or artful screens. They had a shared sleeping area in the far corner with their beds arranged at a right-angle with their heads close together. There was one area right near a big window that had been screened off, but Jim could see a soft rug through the gaps in the joints of the screen – probably for meditation. Otherwise, the living room–kitchen–general use area was fluid, connected. And, unlike the rooms Jim had seen before – his own and Simon's – it wasn't decorated with the rustic look of the cabin. He couldn't quite name the style, but it was much more modern, though it clearly had an Indian twist.

Curious now, Jim moved past Benton's room to where Jessie was just coming out of her own space. But that, too, was almost identical to Jim's rooms. He frowned. Heading back to Jonny and Hadji's door, he leaned on the doorfame.

"Why do I feel like I missed a decorating memo?" he asked.

"Oh, that was my doing," Blair said airily as he slipped past Jim to enter. "Hadji and I thought maybe this would be more comfortable for them."

"We had the same room for the first year we lived together," Jonny explained, pulling a box from one of the cabinets in the kitchenette and pouring a bowl of food for Bandit. "We kind of got used to it. We've got separate rooms now, but…"

"You'd knock down the wall if you could," Jessie put in from beside Jim. "Heck, I'd do it too, but a girl's got to have _some_ privacy around all you boys." She smiled.

"Yeah, but what if you need space?" Jim looked to Blair. "Sentinels sometimes, er…"

"Won't happen," Jonny said resolutely.

"It _could_ ," Blair warned.

"My friends," Hadji appeared around one of the screens where he had been unpacking a bag in the sleeping area, "please do not concern yourselves. In the event of such an instinctive desire for separation, I could simply take refuge next door with Doctor Quest or even Race and Jessie." His face softened as he looked at his brother. "But I agree. It is not likely occur. We are not strangers to the other's habits, Jim. We have no boundaries to threaten one another. We have been brothers too long."

Jim nodded, but his gaze fell on his own partner. There was something stiff in Blair's shoulders, something in what he could see of his expression that was subtly unhappy. Jim understood – the ease of the connection between Jonny and Hadji was closer than what Jim had shared with his own brother growing up. It was akin to what he knew Sandburg wanted from him. In fact, it was what he wanted for himself. Jim just had no idea how to get there.

Instead, he cleared his throat and changed the subject. "You guys hungry, or should we just get down to business."

"Let's do it," Jonny faced him with his head up and his shoulders back. "I'm not hungry anyway."

He glanced to Hadji, who gave a slight nod. Neither of them would feel particularly well until what had been lost was restored.

-==OOO==-

Two hours later, everybody was frustrated.

Blair ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at the heat. Mid-September in the Pacific Northwest was still pretty warm and largely dry, and for once the day was blazingly sunny and beautiful. Which, of course, Blair loved. The long grasses under them had made a soft mat for their day outside, and the rest of the world had seemed so very far away. But he was still allowed to get hot. At least now the sun was finally starting to go down for the evening, the long shadows offering some respite.

"All right," he said more to himself than the others as he idly carded his hands through the grass before him. "Let's take a step back. We've established that Jonny's senses aren't totally gone, which is good."

"Yeah, and my nose is _still_ itching from that stink!" Jonny protested.

"Dial it back," Blair responded automatically. The young Sentinel frowned deeply but attempted to obey. From the expression on his face, it wasn't completely successful.

"They really do seem to be intermittent," Jessie said thoughtfully. "Offline overall until suddenly one will be back for a moment and then gone again. Never a consistent sense and never a consistent stimulus that brings it back."

"Your music and meditation did not appear to work," Hadji put in. "And Jonny is no stranger to those techniques, and we both feel confident that his answers do not lie in something so simple."

"Jim? Any thoughts?" Blair turned to his partner.

"You're the expert, Professor," Jim shrugged. Then, a little sympathetically, "But I've had a couple of outages myself, and I'm still not sure what fixed them."

"And you already tried isolation out in the wilderness, right?" Blair asked. Jonny nodded. "Then I'm not sure more of that would help. I can't figure why you should get different results just because you're in a different forest."

"We did make every attempt to follow your excellent instructions," Hadji said. "Only when we were defeated at every turn did we decide to trouble you for help."

Jim perked up at that. He suddenly realized that Jonny, for all his frustration and sullen disappointment, was reacting fairly well to the setback. Jim remembered nearly tearing Sandburg's head off for lesser failures than this one – he had very little patience for feeling like the so-called expert was, in fact, out of ideas. But Jonny didn't seem to resent Blair for not having all the answers and cracking the problem yet. He was desperate and angry, but not resentful.

"It comes of hanging out around scientists all the time," Jessie said as if reading Jim's thoughts. "We're used to trial and error as a way of life, and of finding out that some questions just _can't_ be answered right now, today."

"Well, today's what we've got," Blair said with a bit of his own disappointment. "Unless I cancel my class tomorrow." He looked at the four faces around him. "Which I could do. You guys need me."

"No way!" Jonny said so loudly he surprised Bandit out of the snooze he'd fallen into in the center of their rough circle. Bandit came up barking before Jessie quickly settled him.

"This is important," Blair said. "This is what it's all about."

"Yeah, but not _this_ ," Jonny argued. "If we were talking about me being insensible from a zone-out or something, yeah, you'd be right. The way I see it, you've only got so much leeway with the university right now, so you've got to spend your margin carefully. And this, me stuck like this, isn't worth that. There's no real rush to getting things fixed. Not enough to justify you missing class."

"What Jonny means," Hadji said softly, "is that we know SELF is worth your sacrifice of your teaching duties. But he does not wish you to sacrifice for him just yet. We all know there will be time enough for that sooner or later."

Blair was taken aback. Then, suddenly, his psychology training kicked in and he understood something else Jonny wasn't saying, something Hadji clearly knew. _Jonny doesn't want this to be a big deal to me, because if it's a big deal to someone he considers an expert, then something's really wrong. And if something's really wrong, then Jonny has reason to be afraid. So far, he's focused on being brave_.

Blair nodded, and he didn't miss the flash of relief in Jonny's face or the gratitude in Hadji's. "Okay. If you don't mind, then, I'll hang around here through dinner, but then I ought to head back into town. I don't even want to think about commuting in for an 8:15 class from way out here," he smiled.

"Are we planning to stay up here?" Jessie asked, looking to Jonny and Hadji.

"I figure we should," Jonny said. "I mean, that's what this place is for – to help Sentinels figure out their senses. Not really a better place to do it."

"You've got that right," Jim grimaced, remembering certain tests run in the kitchen that never should have been anywhere near where he would actually want to be eating food later.

"Do you not wish to stay here?" Hadji asked her.

"Well…I mean, of course if you need me here, I'll stay," she hedged, "but honestly, I'd rather head back myself."

"What for?" Jonny asked.

"A couple of different things," she admitted. "First of all, the link between SELF and Rainier's anthropology resources online hasn't been finished, so I'm sure there's stuff I could be searching for if I had access, and for that I have to be on campus. Second of all, I…" she tucked her hair back in a sudden nervous gesture, "I kind of want to see the campus, maybe talk to some people."

"Hey, we get it, Jess," Jonny reassured her. "If it's going to be our homes for a while, we better get used to it. Say hi to the Dean for me if you see her."

"You don't mind if I don't stay here with you?"

"We understand your intent," Hadji said. "And if you had no reason at all, we still would not be troubled. It is your preference and that is enough."

"Do you mind if I catch a ride with you?" Jessie turned to Blair.

"Nah," he shook his head. "Where're you staying?"

"Are there any beds in the SELF house upstairs yet?"

"Just the one emergency cot," Blair answered.

"Good enough," she smiled.

"Actually," Jim spoke up, "I think I'll stay up here for a while longer. Simon said to take some time if I needed it, and I don't have anything to rush back to in Cascade right now. So you can stay at the loft if Sandburg doesn't mind."

"Yeah, no problem," Blair smiled. "You can take my room and I'll hit the couch."

"Will you sleep okay out there?" Jessie asked, concerned.

"Yeah, sure. No big deal."

Jim hid a smile – even without so much as glancing at him, his Guide understood better than to even offer the other proper bed in the loft. Jim's space was sacrosanct and even Blair was only semi-welcome there. Though he might decide to take pity on the guy and let him take the bed instead of the couch if he promised to wash all the sheets.

Blair stood and stretched. "Okay. Teacher says we should figure out the kitchen and grab some grub before it gets much later. Besides, aren't you guys hungry?"

There was a rumble of agreement while everyone got to their feet, Bandit happily bounding from one friend to another. As they set off towards the lodge, Jim gestured for Jessie to stay behind. If the others noticed, they didn't say anything and left the pair alone.

"What's up, Jim?" Jessie looked at him quizzically.

"Come with me a minute," he said. He began to circle around the lodge towards one of the out-buildings. Unlike most, this one looked as though it weren't brand new, as if, in fact, it were regularly in use.

"You gonna shoot me?" Jessie teased the detective as she realized he'd brought her to the indoor firing range.

But Jim was all business. His thumbprint opened the weapons locker inside – unlike the outer door, which was locked with a simple keycard like most of the doors on-site – and he drew out a standard Glock and pair of clips loaded with live rounds. Then he closed up the locker and strode to the door that separated the front area from the actual shooting range.

Jessie followed him curiously but without any fear. It would take a lot more than being alone in a room unarmed for her to even _begin_ to think about doubting this man. Still, she was surprised when he handed her a set of ear-protectors and safety goggles. He waited until she'd donned both before he turned, loaded the gun, and hit a button, activating the range.

Over the course of the next thirty seconds, ten targets appeared, some marked as "friendly" and some marked as "hostile." Jim expertly shot only the hostile targets, putting at least one shot dead-center and usually a second clustered nearby. At the end of the round, he turned to her.

"You know what you're doing?" he asked her.

Jessie's heart sped up a little, and she met his gaze seriously. "Yes, sir."

Jim handed the Glock to her, waited for her to check the chamber, and hit the button again.

Everything disappeared. Jessie fell into the rhythm of the exercise, striking her first target three times to make sure she had an accurate read of the gun in her hands before she settled into shooting instinctively. When the round ended, she efficiently unloaded it, ejecting the magazine and double-checking the chamber to ensure there were no surprises inside. Only when that was done did she look up for her results.

"Nice job," Jim said with a small smile. "Didn't miss more than once, and didn't shoot any friendlies."

"Want to tell me what that was all about?" Jessie asked calmly as she removed her goggles and ear-protectors.

"Your dad once told me that you could shoot anything short of a bazooka he put in your hands, and that you knew how to take care of yourself. I wanted to know if that was true."

Jessie waited. She didn't know Jim well, but she knew well enough to give him time when he was working himself through verbalizing something uncomfortable.

"Look," he said finally. "I promised Blair I wouldn't ignore my instincts as a Sentinel anymore, and I haven't. And right now, I feel like something's not right. I don't know what it is or why, but I feel like I'm waiting for something to happen."

"And you're worried about Blair," she concluded.

Jim nodded. "He's a trouble magnet. Kind of like you and those boys," he flashed a smile at her. "I can't shake the feeling that something bad is right around the corner."

"Why don't you come down to Cascade, then?" Jessie asked curiously. "That's your territory. And you know that Jonny and Hadji will be safe up here."

"Yes, but this is where I need to be," Jim answered. "As much as I need to protect Cascade...I need to help Jonny more." He swallowed. "I don't really know why. I just…feel like I should be here now. Even if I can't shake the sense that something's just waiting to explode down there."

"I don't necessarily understand it," Jessie said, "but it doesn't matter. If this is your way of asking me to protect Blair while you're up here, I will." Her green eyes held his intense gaze without fear. "I promise."

"I'm not honestly sure what's worse, counting on a teenager to protect my Guide or waiting for whatever's going to happen, but I'll feel a lot better if I think you both are watching each others' backs. I'll put in a call to Simon, too, just in case." Jim hesitated for a moment.

Then he picked up the gun she had abandoned and handed her the second, fresh clip. "Hang onto it. And I hope to god you don't have to use it, but if you do, I'm counting on you."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, someone asked me why the delay between putting up chapters. There's kind of 2 reasons. One is that I like posting on a regular schedule – it keeps me thinking about writing in general and it also keeps me from spamming the people who follow me and might not care about my current project. The other reason, specific to this series, is that by the end of the year, there will be 70 chapters/oneshots that will go up. If you divide the year out evenly, that means my wildly-specific timeframe to keep the updates coming at regular intervals.
> 
> I know it's slightly annoying. Sorry. But not really.
> 
> Enjoy!

Blair left not long after dinner, taking one of the spare cars kept in a garage on-site rather than driving the big van for just himself and Jessie. They made easy conversation most of the way down the mountains until Blair's phone rang.

"Will you answer it?" he asked, hauling it from a pocket and handing it over to her. "I hate talking while driving."

Smiling at the name displayed by the phone, Jessie expertly unlocked it and answered the call as primly as she could. "Good evening! You've reached Doctor Blair Sandburg's mobile phone. He is busy at the moment, but I would be happy to take your call."

Blair snorted trying to keep a giggle to himself.

"Is this Jessie Bannon?" grumbled a voice she could identify with the name from the phone.

"Yes, sir," she responded pertly.

"Well, knock it off! This is Simon Banks, as you probably know, and I need you to give Sandburg a message."

"Certainly, sir," Jessie chuckled.

"I really hate kids sometimes," Simon grumbled just loud enough to be heard.

"I can't imagine why, sir."

"You tell Sandburg that I want to see him in my office tomorrow morning. I know he's got that class, so I want him here at seven-AM, bright and early. And since you're in such a fine mood, why don't you come with him?"

"I'll see that he gets the message sir," Jessie answered brightly. Simon cut the call and she laughed freely.

"He seems to be in a fine mood," Blair commented.

"Yeah, well, he wants to see both of us tomorrow morning before your class," Jessie said. "Any idea why?"

"No clue," Blair shook his head. Then he paused. "You know, we might need to come up with some kind of story to explain you to the rest of the department. I can get you a visitor's pass, but I need a good reason for it."

"Tell them the truth," Jessie shrugged. "Tell them I'm a friend and also a prospective student for Rainier and my dad is friends with Captain Banks. Ought to be enough, don't you think?"

Blair grinned. "Way better than Jim's first story about me!"

"How so?" Jessie asked.

Blair settled into telling the stories of his early friendship with his stern Sentinel, filling up the car all the way back to the loft.

-==OOO==-

It was well after midnight when Jim heard the movements from the room a few walls away. With the silence of a Special Ops soldier, or maybe a large jungle cat, he rose from his bed and got dressed. Padding in thick slippers, he followed the footsteps down the hall to the small stairwell in the far corner. Somehow, Jim wasn't surprised his quarry headed up instead of down, opening the small door to the roof and vanishing into the star-spangled darkness.

Jim gave him exactly three minutes before he ascended the steps himself. On the roof, he opened his sight to take in Jonny staring up at the sky with a forlorn expression at the far end of the building.

"Out for a walk?" he asked.

"Gah!" Jonny jumped and almost overbalanced in surprise. "Jim! Do you _practice_ for that sort of thing?"

"Sometimes," Jim smirked. He easily crossed the roof to join him. "We've got to stop meeting like this, kid."

Jonny smiled ruefully. "Tell me about it." After a moment, he shifted his feet. "So, you here to tell me to get to bed? Or to give me some kind of weird nighttime sage advice?"

"First of all," Jim crossed his arms, "I'm not your dad, thankfully. So I don't care what time you go to bed. If you miss breakfast, that's your problem."

Jonny nodded.

"Secondly," Jim continued, "I only have one piece of sage advice and it isn't even mine. But I bet you want to hear it right about now. Unless there's some reason other than you worrying about your senses that you came all the way up here instead of looking out your own window."

"I don't want to bother Hadji," Jonny answered.

_Protecting the Guide even from yourself_ , Jim thought a little amusedly. _You really are a Sentinel, kid_.

"Then here's my one bit of wisdom. It comes from Incacha, the shaman I knew from Peru."

"I remember you and Blair talking about him," Jonny nodded.

"Yeah, well, he told me something more than once. Something that stuck with me. He said that a Sentinel will always be a Sentinel if he chooses to be. I didn't believe him at the time, but later it all made sense to me."

Jim moved forward and rested both hands on Jonny's shoulders.

"I don't know what's going on inside that head of yours, but every time I lost my senses, it was because on some level I didn't want them anymore. You figure out why you don't want to be a Sentinel and get over it, you'll get your senses back."

"But I do want to be a Sentinel!" Jonny protested.

Jim stepped back and turned to leave. "Then be one, 'cause it's all on you," he said over his shoulder.

-==OOO==-

Morning came a little too bright and early for Jessie's taste, made at least somewhat better because, according to her body-clock from four hours to the east, it was actually _late_ morning. So a cup of strong coffee got her going; and by the time she had ridden in Blair's shaky little car to the police station, curiosity had started to fuel her.

Blair gave their prearranged story to the guy at the front desk, and between that and Simon calling down to see what in the world was taking so long, they got her the visitor's pass – and while he was at it, Blair arranged for a pass for Jonny and Hadji as well just in case. Minutes later, they were crowded into the elevator with several other members of the force on their way to start their day of protecting and serving.

And if Jessie saw a few dirty looks given to Blair, she kept it to herself.

Up on the right floor, Blair breezed down the hallway and into Major Crimes. Rhonda grinned at him, but she was on her way out the other door with her arms full of files.

"Blair!" Joel greeted him the minute he entered. "Long time no see!"

"Hey Hairboy!" Henri Brown cheered from his desk. Then he did a double-take at Jessie. "That ain't your usual partner, Sandburg."

Blair rolled his eyes him. "Jessie Bannon, meet Captain Joel Taggart and Detectives Henri Brown and Brian Rafe." Leveling a look at the guys, he said, "Jessie's dad is a friend of ours, and she's also applying to Rainier, so I'm showing her around."

Blair knew he had a reputation with women in the department, and for one split-second he wondered if that was about to bite him for being with an underage girl, but all three men smiled at Jessie and welcomed her kindly. Blair was grateful – it was one thing to tease a guy for having a roving eye, and another to insinuate something genuinely terrible.

"Sandburg!" Simon called. "Didn't I say I wanted to see you? Or did you forget between downstairs and the bullpen? And bring Jessie with you."

"Oops, better go," Blair said.

"They seem like good people," Jessie observed as she followed Blair into the office.

"They are," he agreed. "You'd have liked Megan, too. She was here on loan from Sydney for a while but had to go back while I was in Borneo. I think you two would have gotten along really well."

"Not to interrupt your little tea party," Simon crossed his arms and looked at the pair, "but we do have something to discuss. Oh, and welcome back to Cascade, kiddo."

Jessie beamed. "Good morning, Captain Banks!"

"What's up, Simon?" Blair asked, taking a seat. Jessie waited until Simon waved her into a chair to sit down as well.

"First of all, either of you want to tell me why Ellison bolted out of here yesterday? All he gave me was some kind of story about SELF and now you're here."

Blair hesitated but Jessie didn't. "We called Jim and Blair for help. Jonny's having trouble and we didn't know what else to do."

Simon's aloofness thawed and he leaned forward. "Is he okay?"

"His senses are gone."

The captain ran a hand over his face. "Figures. Well, that tells me why Jim pulled his disappearing act. I take it they're up at the lodge?"

"Yup," Blair confirmed.

Simon sighed a little wistfully. He'd been back just once since that first trip, and the place was turning into an all-around beautiful getaway. If he could have come up with any excuse to head up there himself and get some fishing in…

"The second thing," Simon shook himself back to business, "is for you, Sandburg. I'm wondering if you would mind heading out with Joel today. He asked for you specifically."

"Joel? Why?"

"Remember that fire last week? The one that went down with you across the street?"

"No, I've completely forgotten yet more evidence that my life is the most stunning example of a cruel universe ever," Blair replied testily.

Simon gave him a glare but continued. "There was another fire like it last night. A little farther out of the downtown area, thankfully, but it was a department store this time that went up."

"Are they connected?" Jessie found herself asking.

"The arson squad doesn't think so, but I'm not so sure," Simon answered. "To be honest, they've kind of got their hands full. Fire season won't really let up for another month, and they're running ragged dealing with things in the suburbs and beyond. The fire investigators don't have a lot of manpower to focus on little, contained fires when they're risking a bigger one out in the boonies, not to mention every weekend barbeque gone wrong and student bonfires and everything else."

"Simon, why Joel?" Blair asked astutely.

"Call it a hunch," Simon answered, "but I want his bomb squad experience to take a look. The preliminaries make it seem like an electrical fire instead of another gas leak, but I just want to make sure before the department closes the file. I'd send Jim if I could, but I understand he needs to be where he is. So, will you go?"

"Simon," Blair hedged, "Joel's…started asking questions. About me. And Jim."

The captain raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Well, that's easy to manage," Jessie put in. "I'll come with you."

"I can't send a seventeen-year-old into an active investigation," Simon protested.

"Eighteen," Jessie corrected. "My birthday was in August."

"Happy birthday," the captain grumbled. "Same thing. I can't send an _eighteen_ -year-old to a possible crime scene, either. Policy and safety issues aside, you could taint a possible prosecution."

"I wouldn't worry about that part," she shrugged. "I've already worked with the police all over the world. Besides, I'm supposed to be tailing after Blair, right? Plus, if I'm around, Captain Taggart won't feel comfortable asking Blair any awkward questions. And it could be interesting."

"Oh, I know I'm going to regret this," Simon sighed. "But if I recall correctly, you can even produce evidence of being employed by the State Department and it isn't even fishy now that you're of age, can't you?"

"Yep. I'm on the books as a full agent now, and Hadji is, too. Agent Fritz will vouch for me if it ever comes up. I also have a permit to carry and use a firearm in defense of myself, others, or national security." Jessie sat back with a smug smile.

"Oh god, she's worse than you," the captain groaned. "All right, just go. But Sandburg!" his voice rose to a warning roar.

"Yeah?"

"If anything, and I mean _anything_ happens to her, I'm going to let her father take it out of _your_ hide while I sell tickets and popcorn! Do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Simon," Blair grinned at his temporary partner. "Loud and clear."

-==OOO==-

Hadji stepped to Jim's side. He watched for a few moments before speaking. "How is he doing?"

"He's doing fine," Jim shrugged, "but beats me why it's helping."

Jim had spent the time over breakfast considering what he might be able to do that would have any kind of benefit for Jonny and his trouble with his senses. In the end, what he'd come up with was an old training exercise he'd learned from the Chopec during his time in Peru. Accordingly, he'd set up something of an obstacle course throughout the central grounds surrounding the lodge. He'd marked a path with strips of reflective tape that wound from building to building, up trees and into the underbrush at the treeline and even across the pool and over a basketball hoop. The point of the course wasn't just to get the kid moving – at multiple points, the pieces of tape were very small, and sometimes the physical challenge demanded swift reflexes or keen spacial awareness.

Jonny had run the course once already, but now Jim had decided on an additional challenge.

"Excuse me," he said politely to Hadji with a small smile. Then he raised the paintball-gun and began firing.

"Yikes!" Jonny shouted as he dodged the incoming barrage.

"You did not hit him," Hadji observed.

"No," Jim shook his head. "So far, he's seen every shot coming at him in time to avoid it. And I took some of those shots from under cover. He's definitely using his Sentinel senses to help him."

"But not consciously," Hadji realized. "You have triggered his inherent instincts, rather than attempting to have his waking self tap into his abilities."

"I guess," Jim shrugged. "It just seemed to work."

"So what will you do when he completes this course?" Hadji wanted to know.

"It depends on him," Jim said, watching as Jonny shimmied up the basketball pole to tag the top of the board before dropping back to the ground. "Depends on if he stays a Sentinel when he stops running."

"An apt metaphor," Hadji said.

"He told you about our little chat?"

"He did," Hadji nodded. "Jonny may try to keep his innermost thoughts from himself, but he very rarely keeps them from me for long, even if he does not realize what he is telling me."

Jim considered that for a moment. Was that what he did with Sandburg? Certainly his partner seemed to understand Jim's rationales and even his twisted logic long before it ever got pulled into the open with words. He wasn't the most communicative guy in the world, Jim knew that, but somehow it always seemed to work itself out. Well, except when it almost hadn't.

"He ever push you away?" Jim asked as casually as he could.

"No," Hadji shook his head. "He may try to protect me unreasonably sometimes, as is his nature, but I do not fault him for such. There is no more eloquent speech than a man's choices, my friend. And Jonny's choices are always made out of kindness and loyalty."

Hadji peered at Jim shrewdly. "As are yours, I perceive."

"You don't know that," Jim immediately argued.

"Oh, I admit, it is possible you have had less than superior motives in the past. But the man standing with me now is neither callous nor cruel. His actions may mystify those who do not know to look for his motives correctly, but I would like to consider myself more like your own Guide in this."

Jim blinked at him. Hadji knew Jim's track record with Sandburg, how he'd kicked him out, betrayed him, _gotten him killed_ , doubted his honor, almost broken their partnership – all of it. How could this kid think so highly of him?

And then the answer hit him like lightning.

It was because _Blair_ thought so highly of him.

Hadji was repeating his own observations, but those had been informed by the many long conversations Jim knew Blair and Hadji had had over the last few months. Hadji would have made his own decisions about Jim, but the context for everything he thought he knew about him was coming from Blair's perspective. It was Blair, the object of so much ill treatment, who had such faith in him.

"Tell me, Hadji," Jim managed, turning so he could watch Jonny rather than look at the young man beside him. "Is it a Guide thing or just my stupidly loyal partner that makes him so quick to forgive the really bad stuff?"

"I cannot speak for all Guides," Hadji replied calmly, "but I will say that your Guide is a man of great personal courage and, as you have said, rare loyalty. These are traits I believe you share. If you would give your life to save his, can you still be surprised he would do the same?"

"Stepping in front of a bullet isn't the same as forgiving someone for being a jerk," Jim had to force the words out.

"No, you are right. The forgiveness is a much greater test of one's character. Thankfully, you both carry it in spades."

Jim looked around at him in surprise so fast he almost set his head spinning. He couldn't even come up with a response to that in his astonishment. Sandburg was the forgiving one, not him.

Hadji chuckled. "Tell me, Detective. Do you harbor ill will in your heart that your loft is now shared with Blair? Do you still strain with anger for the times Blair has put himself in danger for the sake of yourself or another? Do you still carry your fury at your conflicts or his mistakes?"

Jim didn't know what to say to that. He knew his answer – but not how to explain it.

"My point exactly," Hadji smiled. "Your feelings confuse you, but they do not confuse Blair. He has finally learned to see through your eyes, hear through your feelings. As you have learned to do for him. The most difficult lesson of all is learning to forgive oneself. This you have both failed to do. But forgiving one another and seeing the best of each other? This you have mastered."

He paused before he pointed. "But you have perhaps left Jonny too long to his own devices."

Jim shook himself from staring at Hadji to returning to what he was actually supposed to be doing. Jonny, he realized, had made it back to the pool. But rather than swimming across it and continuing on, he was idly floating on his back, looking at the clouds closing in on the sky above. Jim opened his vision to scan Jonny's face, but there was no slackness there – he wasn't zoning. Just lazy.

Jim grinned at Hadji as he shouldered the paintball rifle. "You won't mind if your brother's a little more colorful, will you?"

"No," Hadji grinned in return. "A bit of color will suit him well."

Jim opened fire.

-==OOO==-

"Hey Joel!" Blair greeted his friend cheerfully. "Thanks for giving Jess and I a ride."

"It's no problem," Joel said, frowning. "I'm not so sure about her coming with us to the scene of the fire, though."

"Don't worry about me," Jessie shrugged with a small smile. "I know how to stay out of your way. I'll just be taking some notes on things." She turned to Blair with a brightness in her expression that made Blair want to giggle at her. "I so appreciate you letting me sit in on your class. It was absolutely fascinating. I've always been more into the hard sciences myself, but my mom's an archeologist, so..."

Blair forced himself to listen to Jessie's skillful prattle in case she let up at some point and he needed to respond. In the driver's seat, Joel's face was locked in a mask of politeness, but Blair could almost _feel_ the man's resignation. Clearly with the bubbly Jessie so eager to stay at Blair's elbow, he wasn't going to make any traction on the conversation he was trying to have.

Mid-sentence, Jessie caught Blair's eye and winked before she dove back in. At least, he considered, she was good to talk to. By the time they'd pulled up at the site of the burned department store, Jessie had downshifted out of filler talk and they were legitimately discussing one of the ruined temples from Thailand that both had visited; Blair's expedition had been there after Jessie and her mom, and they'd drawn totally opposite conclusions about what they'd seen. They debated with great gusto until Joel actually cleared his throat.

"So, this is where the fire was," he said, turning off the car. "Neither of you need to come in with me if you don't want to. It's pretty dirty and a little unstable in there."

"No way, man," Blair shook his head. "Simon was clear he wanted you to have another pair of eyes. And with Jessie's experience, she's as good as anybody for a third observer."

Joel gave up and climbed out of the car. But by the time they'd joined him, he had pushed his small irritation to the side, his mind focused on the real tasks at hand: checking the scene and watching out for the pair under his protection.

"Oh!" Jessie stopped in surprise. The two men turned to her and she gestured. "That's...pretty creepy, actually."

Blair turned and looked at what had startled her. "Um, yeah, actually, it is," he agreed.

The department store was one of those huge box stores that sold everything from clothing to car parts to music and office supplies. The big windows in the front were smudged with soot and milky from the foam. Peeking between the streaks of blackened residue was a charred figure – a skeletal store mannequin that seemed to leer at them.

Joel patted Jessie on the shoulder. "The fire was worst near the front of the store where all the biggest lights and the electronics for sale were turned on 24-hours a day. There was a sprinkler system installed, so that helped to contain a lot of the blaze. My friends in the arson squad think there was a short in the electrical systems when one of the shelf-lights overheated and that's what set it off. A lot of the wiring was bundled together, and there were a lot of old packing peanuts propping up the displays and such back there, too."

"So you're thinking it's just another freak fire, too?" Blair asked curiously.

"I'm not saying anything," Joel smiled a little. "I haven't seen it yet."

They ducked around the yellow warning tape and stepped through the gaping hole where the door to the store should have been.

"Most of the building looks like it's in pretty good shape," Blair commented. "The fire didn't even get to the back areas. A lot of the merchandise will be salvageable."

"Which is why nobody's thinking this was for insurance," Joel nodded. "If this was somebody trying to pull a scam, they wouldn't just burn the front displays and the registers – they'd start at the back with the stock room."

Jessie had stopped just inside and was thinking. Aloud, she said, "If it was just a freak accident, that's one thing. But what if it was deliberate? Statistically, arson is more likely."

"Two freak fires in two weeks _is_ a stretch," Blair pointed out. "Do we know if anybody's looking at _our_ fire for arson?"

"No," Joel shook his head. "That was just a coffee shop and the owner has a solid alibi. The fire started behind the counter near the big coffee machines they use, so the investigators figure it was just a machine that didn't get shut off, the propane tank that fed it ruptured, and it went up."

"I don't buy it," Jessie shook her head. "First of all, have either of you ever actually worked in a shop like that?" They shook their heads. "Those machines do get hot, but they're specially built to channel the heat away from the circuits and the gas lines. They're actually designed to be left on all the time, not turned off nightly. It saves power to shut them down, but you don't have to."

"How do you know this?" Blair asked.

Jessie grinned. "We have two at the house." At their surprise, "Hey, _you_ try dealing with my dad and Doctor Quest without at least a gallon of coffee every morning. There's the main pot in the kitchen and another one down in Doctor Quest's lab." She tipped her head for a moment.

"What?" Joel moved closer to her.

"Well..." she said slowly. "Once Jonny knocked a baseball through the kitchen window into the big coffee-maker. He hit it just right and it sparked all over the place. But the thing is, the propane tank was underneath the counter. As soon as the machine got hit, it pulled on the lines and the pressure gauge locked shut. It even bent out of shape before it would let any propane out, so we had to get a new tank."

"Joel," Blair said, "those propane-fueled coffee-makers are pretty new. Would the arson squad know what to look for to tell the difference between the tank just blowing up and somebody tampering with it?"

"You wouldn't have to tamper with the tank," Jessie shook her head. "It would be a lot easier to break the machine directly so the propane got leaked at that end. If the propane blew, the tank would remain largely intact since they're built for that. But the _machines_ aren't."

"No evidence," Joel realized. "The tank would look fine. And there wouldn't be enough left of the machine to piece it back together. Not without a whole lot of time."

"And Captain Banks already told us the whole squad of fire investigators have their hands full. Why waste time on an easy case like this when they have more that mean a lot more damage and injuries?" Jessie pointed out.

"Are we really saying we've got a firebug on our hands?" Joel wanted to know.

"That depends," Blair said, "on what we find here."

"This is a totally different situation," Jessie said. "You said the fire started over there?" she pointed towards a blackened area beneath the ceiling where the flames had eaten almost all the way to the sky.

"That's what the preliminaries say," Joel nodded. Then he frowned. "But something doesn't look right."

"What do you mean?" Blair asked.

"Well, the ignition point of the fire is definitely around here," Joel moved to the ruined shelves that had probably once held TVs and such. "And there's evidence of those packing foam things which are very flammable," he kicked at some particularly dense dark ash.

"But?" Blair prompted him.

"But I don't see anything that could really start the fire." He put on a pair of gloves and began gingerly pushing through the debris. Blair and Jessie watched for several minutes. Suddenly Joel sat back with a sharp breath.

"Blair, Jessie, what do either of you know about these kinds of TVs?" he asked. "About how they actually work?"

"Not a lot," Blair shrugged.

Jessie grinned. "I know some."

"Get over here and tell me if anything looks out of place to you."

Jessie carefully moved through the scene until she was at Joel's side. Squatting down, she found that he had dug through the most decimated of the shelves to a smashed TV at the bottom, its inner parts charred and falling apart. There were lots of other bits and pieces of whatever else had been on the shelf all jumbled up in the pile.

"It's like a jigsaw puzzle," she said.

"Right," Joel nodded. "But something tells me we've got one more piece than we need here." He handed her a pair of gloves.

Jessie began mentally cataloging the remains of the different mechanical parts, some of which were almost burned beyond recognition. But she knew well enough what to look for and it wasn't as though she were a stranger to the debris left over from explosions, either. For about 45 minutes, with Joel's permission, she painstakingly separated the parts into small piles so she could track each TV and what it was missing. There had also been a radio and other small electronics on the same stand of shelves, so she wound up with a fairly impressive set of piles.

In the end, there were a few horribly disfigured bits she just couldn't allocate.

"Here," she pointed. "As near as I can tell, these don't go in any of these other items. You'd want to have an expert check but..."

"But that looks like an ignition switch to me," Joel nodded. "Crude, but functional."

"So it really was arson," Blair said, standing from where he'd taken a seat on a non-burned chair out of the way.

"Not just arson," Joel shook his head. "An ignition switch means a bomber."

"I'll call the captain," Blair offered. He extended an arm to help Jessie and Joel climb out of the neat piles she had made. Jessie was just getting her feet under her and looking up when all her instincts kicked in at once.

"Get down!" she cried, shoving Blair who was nearer to her to the ground behind one of the burned-out cash registers.

Moments later, there was a blast of heat and fire.

-==OOO==-

Jim's phone rang just as they were heading inside to go to lunch, Jonny having finally gotten the last bit of green paint out of his fair hair. Noting that it was Simon, Jim answered at once.

"Ellison."

"Jim. I know you're in the middle of something, but you need to get back to Cascade."

"What happened?" Jim's stomach went cold.

"Somebody just tried to blow up Taggert, Sandburg, and Jessie Bannon."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter introduces a character from the JQ:TRA episode "Dark Sentinel." No, really. If you have the ability to watch the episode, I suggest you do so. If not, here's a basic synopsis:
> 
> Jonny and Hadji are visiting Cameroon with Benton and Race, assisting a local colleague of Benton's with his research into the mysterious healing properties of some local tree sap. Doctor Tigari Zimbati's son Ngama befriends Jonny and Hadji, and the three are working to get samples of the sap before loggers clear the entire area. But when the loggers threaten the lands of the Zimbati tribe who live as close to their traditional beliefs as they ever did, the shaman of the tribe summons an ancient power – a "guardian" that manifests in the real world by draining the life-force of a chosen member of the tribe. The chosen member is Ngama (whose father turned his back on the tribe many years before), and with multiple appearances by the guardian, the boy suffers increasingly dangerous seizures. In the end, Jonny and Hadji manage to transfer the guardian from Ngama to Hadji (because Hadji is just that good) and they hook the whole phenomenon into Questworld (I know – ugh) to send it away before it kills Hadji. The loggers are stopped by the government and the boys part friends.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Can't this thing go any faster?" Jonny demanded.

"I don't have the siren on this stupid van," Jim growled at him. "But you better believe me, I'm giving it all she's got."

"I know we are all very concerned," Hadji said with a gasp as Jim rounded a corner so fast two wheels seemed to leave the road, "but perhaps you could consider giving it slightly _less_ than it has got?"

His suggestion was ignored. Normally, it took a bit more than an hour to get from the heart of Cascade to the SELF location, assuming little traffic and no odd delays. Thirty-five minutes from when they peeled out of the gates, Jim was screeching to a halt at a ring of police cars. All three of them basically jumped from the van to stride towards the center of the action, Jonny's arms wound tightly around Bandit.

"They're with me," Jim said as a patrolman made to stop Jonny and Hadji. He shrugged at the senior detective and let the kids pass.

"Jim!" Simon called, drawing his attention. The captain intercepted them. "Jim, they're okay. It wasn't really too bad."

"What happened?" Jonny demanded.

Hadji noticed that both Sentinels, even Jonny who was theoretically without his senses, were carrying themselves with the same alert tension, attuned to the environment and aware of everything that moved. If Hadji had been a betting man – or if it were permitted by his religion – he would have wagered that Jonny's senses _weren't_ offline, not right now. Just as when he'd been running Jim's course, they were active when he was utilizing them instinctively. If it was pointed out to him, though, then they would once again fail.

"I asked Sandburg to go with Joel to look at another fire," Simon was explaining. At Jim's glare, he held up a hand. "Why I did it doesn't matter right now. Anyway, Jessie tagged along and they were at the scene for a little more than an hour when somebody drove by with a bottle of gas and a rag on fire."

"We're okay." Jessie appeared from out of the chaos. "All things considered, it was a pretty small molotov cocktail and the guy had crap for aim."

Jonny and Hadji dodged around Jim to her side. It was Hadji who put out a hand to touch the bandage looped around Jessie's forearm. "Not entirely unharmed, I see."

Jessie tossed her head. "My own fault," she confessed. "I tore a good gash diving for cover."

Bandit whimpered slightly and lunged from Jonny's arms to Jessie's, where he sniffed her bandage before licking her chin thoroughly.

"Saved my skin, though," Blair said. Now Jim unfroze from his position in front of his captain and faced his partner. "She heard the car take the corner too fast and told us to duck."

"Thank god somebody was paying attention," Jim was torn between berating anybody responsible for putting Blair in harm's way and praising Jessie for her swift action. He settled for doing neither and examining his partner to ensure he was unharmed. Other than being quite dirty, he seemed fine. Not even a lung-rattle this time.

"Yeah," Joel came up. "It probably wouldn't have killed us, but we'd all be in some pretty serious hurt if not for her."

"Tell them what you found," Simon said to Joel.

"Jessie helped us dig through the wreckage and we came up with this," he held up a baggie with a few small pieces in it. "And she warned us in time for me to protect the evidence, too."

"All in a day's work, huh, Ace?" Jonny teased her lightly. But his eyes lingered on her bandaged arm.

"Jonny," Hadji drew his attention back, "do you recognize this?"

"Yeah," Jonny said, peering at the items Joel was still holding up.

"How _exactly_ do you two know an ignition switch on sight?" Simon asked sharply.

Jonny blushed slightly, so Hadji jumped to his rescue. "We did not have what you might call a regular childhood. Jonny and I have both been able to identify a wide variety of incendiary devices and their associated parts since we were twelve years old."

"That's why I didn't know it for sure," Jessie said. "By the time I came along, dad had decided he didn't want me to know as much about pyrotechnics as you two did. I think he thought it would be a bad idea."

"It _is_ a bad idea," Joel said, frowning. "This is very, very dangerous."

"So's being a Quest," Jonny quipped.

"So we're all agreed? Even you kids, who really should not get a vote here, and I can't believe I'm listening to you in the first place," Simon complained more to himself than anyone else. "We're actually dealing with a bomber?"

"I'd say an amateur, though," Blair put in.

"Why do you think so?" Jim asked.

"Well, for one thing, his bomb wasn't very big. If he'd wanted this store gone and he really knew what he was doing, he'd have at least put some real fuel in the thing. But mostly it's because of the way he came back." Blair ran a hand through his smoky hair. "Clearly he didn't expect anything to be left that we could recover at the scene, and when he saw us digging through the wreckage, he panicked. He figured he had to get rid of us before it was too late, and that little molotov was his best idea."

"He's got a point," Simon acknowledged. "It doesn't scream of experience and competence to try to destroy evidence and witnesses by chucking a beer bottle full of gasoline out the car window as you swing by."

"Simon," Joel cleared his throat. "We also have reason to suspect that the coffee shop fire Blair and I witnessed wasn't an accident either."

"So we have a bomber and he's already hit two places?" Simon frowned darkly. "All right, that's it. Arson missed this, and whoever it is just took a shot at a pair of my detectives, so I'm taking charge of this investigation. Jim, whatever you're up to, you'll have to take a break." He stopped for a moment to glance apologetically at the three kids. "I hope you understand."

"Oh, yeah, no problem," Jonny assured him. "This is way bigger than, um, showing us around."

Simon blinked until he realized that Joel was watching them carefully. Joel, who wasn't in on any of the secrets.

Jim glanced at his watch. "It just after lunchtime now," he said. "Joel and I can start going over the evidence from the coffee shop and compare it to this place. Maybe we'll be able to narrow down exactly what this guy knows how to do. Sandburg, after you it the showers you can start on the research – find out what sort of connection might link the two places."

"Sounds good," Joel nodded. He turned to carry his evidence bag over to the forensic team, but paused to put a hand on Jessie's shoulder. "Good work today, Jessie. You've got a real instinct for this sort of thing."

"Thanks," she blushed slightly under the praise. "I'm just glad I could help."

Bandit barked once cheerfully and Joel scruffed his head before continuing on his way.

"Simon, think you can give me and Sandburg a ride home to pick up the truck?" Jim asked. He pulled out the keys to the van and tossed them to Hadji. "You guys can go get your stuff. Somehow I have a feeling you're going to want to stay a little closer to the campus for a while."

"Yeah, we'll crash at the house," Jonny nodded. "Perfect time to actually buy some furniture for the place."

"Don't let them buy anything I wouldn't buy," Blair said to Hadji with a wink. He, Jim, and Simon all looked at the trio with the same slightly expectant expression and the kids realized they were waiting for them to leave.

"We'll catch up with you guys around dinner time," Jonny offered. He started to lead the way to the van, Hadji and Jessie following.

But when they were in the van and safely away from the scene heading back into the mountains, Jessie leaned forward between Jonny and Hadji in the front seats. "We're not really _not_ going to look into this, are we?"

"Of course not, Jess!" Jonny grinned. "Nobody tries to blow up a Quest or a Bannon without us taking an interest!"

"But first," Hadji said firmly, "let us establish a base of operations at SELF. And we must also ensure we do not earn the ire of either Jim or Simon. Neither will take well to us involving ourselves."

"What they don't know won't hurt them," Jessie shrugged with a smirk.

"We seem to be hiding information from a great many people these days," Hadji commented.

"All for the greater good," Jonny said airily.

"Yes," Hadji agreed, "but _whose_ greater good is what we have yet to sufficiently determine."

-==OOO==-

Three hours later found Jessie, Jonny, and Hadji unloading the last of the simple furniture they had bought for the SELF house. The downstairs was fully set up already as an office space for Blair, but the upstairs rooms had been utterly spartan except for one sad-looking cot. With the van to transport things, the trio had acquired two more cots and some simple, some-assembly-required tables and chairs and chests of drawers. They had also dropped by a grocery store to grab the essentials, which they could store in the kitchen on the main floor.

Bandit was upstairs napping on one of the newly-made cots while Jessie was already constructing a chest of drawers, leaving Jonny and Hadji to haul the rest of the stuff inside. They were poised on the front steps, Jonny just inside the door and doing a strange hopping motion to prop the door for Hadji at the other end of the unwieldy box, when a voice called out from the sidewalk.

"Hadji! Hadji Singh!"

Hadji fought to turn without dropping his end of the box and succeeded in almost losing his balance on the step. He swayed in place before a sudden strong arm was supporting him from behind.

Jonny had been ready to drop the box and grab for his brother, but instead he looked to the dark face at Hadji's shoulder with genuine shock. "Ngama?"

The young man grinned. "You remember me!"

"I'm not sure we could ever forget!" Hadji said brightly. "Give us one moment, please, my friend."

By the time Jonny and Hadji had finished hauling the box inside and setting it down, Jessie had come downstairs at the commotion. She stopped at the bottom step, surprised to see Jonny and Hadji each putting an arm around the shoulders of a lean young African man she had never seen before. He was taller than either of them, his dense, curly hair cut close to his head.

"I did not imagine I would ever see you again!" he was saying, smiling widely.

"Us either," Jonny was still a little breathless at the surprise. Spotting Jessie, he waved her over. "Jessie, this is a friend of ours from a few years ago. Ngama, this is Jessie Bannon, Race's daughter."

At that moment, Bandit bounded down the stairs, looking for some of his own attention.

"And this is Bandit, my dog," Jonny finished. Bandit responded to the introduction by circling Ngama once, then trotting over to the couch, hauling himself up on it, and going back to sleep, causing them all to laugh.

"Ah, the intrepid Jessie Bannon," Ngama greeted her cheerfully, offering her a hand. "I heard many stories of you when the three of us first met."

"It was the week we were in Cameroon when you were in Belize with Estella, I believe," Hadji explained. "Doctor Quest was helping Ngama's father, Doctor Tigari Zimbati, work with a remarkable sap from a local tree, as well as attempting to protect the trees until the government passed a resolution against logging."

"I remember you telling me about that," Jessie said. "Something about a tribal guardian?"

"That's the one," Jonny nodded.

"So what are you doing in Cascade, Ngama?" Hadji asked.

"I am traveling with my father," Ngama said, his eyes sliding a little to the side as he spoke. "This is my last year in secondary school, so while he is busy conferring with a colleague, I am traveling to a few different universities to help me decide where I might wish to apply for my further studies. I just arrived a few hours ago."

"And you're considering Rainier?" Jonny asked.

"Yes," Ngama nodded. "It is one of my first choices."

"That's great!" Jonny cheered. "It's our favorite choice, too!"

"Although we have applied for immediate entrance in the spring term," Hadji said. "So, with luck, we will be students here in a matter of months."

"All three of you?" Ngama asked. They nodded. "Then it must be a very good school."

"It has some real advantages for us," Jessie said. "Do you know what you would like to study?"

"Yes," Ngama affirmed. "I would like to follow my father's work. He has continued to study the native plants of our lands and how they are used medically so that he can bring those uses to modern society."

"Bio-chemistry, then, with an emphasis on the medical anthropology and traditional medicines," Hadji said. At Ngama's surprise, he smiled. "We recently made the acquaintance of one of Doctor Quest's friends in that very field when we were briefly in Hawaii. I can see how it would be of interest to you."

"Do you mean Doctor Waihee?" Ngama asked.

"You know her?" Jessie was surprised.

"No," he shook his head, "but my father does. That's who he's visiting right now, with that same sap we went through so much trouble for when we first met." He looked ruefully at Jonny and Hadji. "Were it not worth all that suffering and more for what it may do for medical science..."

"Do not worry, my friend," Hadji put a hand on his shoulder. "Yours is not the only such adventure we have faced. It was our place to be there at your side to help you in your time of need."

"You're going to have to tell me the story again," Jessie said.

"We will!" Jonny said. "Let's just get all the rest of this stuff inside and start building things or we'll be camping inside a house and that's just wrong."

"Would you like some assistance?" Ngama offered. "I am certain I can help with the incomprehensible directions within these boxes. I helped my father and a few others assemble a school last year for a remote village, and it, too, came in a series of boxes."

Jonny and Jessie began talking animatedly with Ngama as they went back to the van to gather up the last of the supplies, but Hadji found himself at the window, staring at the young man he had once known as a friend. Ngama had grown up healthy and sturdy, which was a welcome sight given that the last time they had seen him, he had been suffering the after-effects of a very dangerous ailment.

_But something is different now_ , Hadji thought. _He is the same person, but not. There is something that has changed_.

Hadji realized it all in a flash. "Oh no!"

He flew down the stairs as the sense of tension in the air began to crackle, although the other three seemed unaware of it. He reached Jonny's side in a rush.

"Hadj? Everything okay?" Jonny turned to him in concern.

"Everything is fine," Hadji said slowly, deliberately. He put a hand on Jonny's shoulder, though, and held on firmly.

"What is it?" Jessie asked. Ngama had turned, too, but the tension had finally reached him and his dark eyes were beginning to narrow.

"We are all friends here," Hadji said firmly. "And that will not change."

But he looked at Jonny and took a deep breath. "But something else _did_ change. Ngama is a Sentinel."

" _What!_?"

-==OOO==-

"How's it going, Chief?" Jim leaned back to look over his partner's shoulder.

"Not too bad," Blair answered, squinting at his screen. "Well, kind of bad, but it could be worse, I guess."

"Want to share?"

"I mean, the good news is that it was pretty easy to figure out that there's not a lot in common between those two places," he said, finally looking up. "One's a mom-and-pop coffee shop owned by a local, and the other is a box store franchise as part of a chain. They don't have the same bank, the same kind of financing, the same insurers, or the same owners. And the coffee shop is pretty new, so it doesn't even have any current or former employees that were ever connected to the department store, either."

"Well, that's pretty clear as a dead end," Jim said.

"Not necessarily," Blair shook his head. "There is one thing they have in common." He pulled up a series of maps on his screen. "I started thinking it wasn't the places, but the people that we should start looking at."

"They're in totally different neighborhoods," Jim pointed out.

"Yes, but there's this," Blair keyed a few commands and the two crime scenes were highlighted in red. He added another layer and a series of small yellow dots appeared. Then he added some green lines.

"What is that?" Joel asked, appearing behind Jim and looking over the two of them.

"Both crime scenes are within a few yards of a major bus stop," Blair explained. "And there's only one bus route that runs past both of them, the 221, which goes from downtown out to the eastern suburbs a couple of times in the morning and again at quitting time. That's still several hundred possible suspects, though."

"But it means our firebug could be a mass-transit commuter," Jim concluded. "And he used both the coffee shop and the department store. If we can get the receipts from each place, we can narrow down our suspect pool." He squeezed Blair's shoulder. "Good catch, Einstein."

Suddenly a full-body tremor went through Jim, as though he'd been blasted with a shock of cold air.

"You all right?" Joel asked in surprise.

"Yeah, sure," Jim answered immediately. "Just a chill. What do you call it? Someone walking over my grave?" He shrugged.

But Blair watched him carefully and, as soon as Joel had turned back to the map, Jim shook his head slightly. Well, Blair already knew he hadn't been telling the truth – that was obvious even to a non-Sentinel. The Guide took in Jim's expression, the set of his shoulders, the unconscious slight tip to his head that meant he was trying to listen to something that was out of range. Blair was Jim's Guide, and he was also an anthropologist who had spent more than a decade learning to read people's subtlest signs.

"You need to go?" he breathed, barely forming the words and only just giving them a puff of air to carry them. But it was enough for Jim. Jim shook his head again.

But the odd feeling wouldn't let up no matter how he tried to ignore it. Jim was always peripherally aware of it, an odd twitch between his shoulder-blades. It wasn't the same feeling of being watched that he'd gotten way too familiar with in his time on stakeouts, in the military, and even in the jungle. It was more…a sense of strangeness. A sense of waiting.

An hour later, armed with a list of the businesses that were at the downtown end of the bus line that might be the daily destination of their firebug, Joel went off to pull in some uniforms to canvas the area. Finally, Blair turned to Jim and asked, "What is it?"

"I don't know," Jim shook his head. "I can't shake it, though. It's like an itch."

"It's not making you want to do something stupid like throw me out of the loft again, is it?" Blair asked with only a hint of teasing.

"No," Jim denied. "Not that. It…" He sighed. But he'd promised his partner not to ignore his instincts, and also not to keep quiet about them. "If we were camping, or if I were back in Peru, I'd want to climb the tallest tree I could find because I'd be expecting to see something wrong from the air."

"Well," Blair shrugged, "Let's do that. Come on – the roof access shouldn't be locked, right?"

"Right."

As they made their way towards the stairwell, Jim considered his partner. _I don't know what's weirder – this feeling or the fact that Sandburg is just going along with it like it's completely reasonable_.

The latter was making Jim feel a lot better about the former, though.

-==OOO==-

It took all of Hadji's skill to keep his breathing even and maintain a steady heart-rate. This was not the moment for his pulse to begin pounding in his ears; too many people would be upset by it. And there wasn't room for any more upset than had swept through the four of them.

All traces of the friendly tableau had disappeared at his pronouncement. Where there had been excitement and trust and renewed acquaintance, now there was cold suspicion and open hostility. Ngama had been in the process of lifting a box with Jessie – now they stood, frozen, the box between them almost trembling with the tension. Jessie's body was taut, as if she were bracing herself to drop the box and fight at a moment's notice. Jonny, a step to the side, was taking deep breaths, his chest rising and falling a little too fast. He'd turned to Ngama at Hadji's words, and Hadji didn't miss his brother interposing his body between their old friend and his Guide.

"Now," Hadji said softly, not lifting his hand from Jonny's shoulder but taking a deliberate step forward and around to where he could face Ngama openly, "as I have said, this need not change what matters between us."

Ngama frowned. "What do you accuse me of, my friend?"

"He's not accusing you," Jonny said with a frown of his own. "It's fact. You're a Sentinel." Dropping his voice even lower, he added, "Like me."

"And what, exactly, do you believe that to mean?" Ngama asked.

"Heightened senses," Jonny said. "You can probably hear all our hearts beating. Maybe you can see the very ridges of another person's skin or smell what they ate for breakfast from their clothing. Hear stuff from half a mile away. It's a genetic advantage some people have."

Ngama, if anything, grew more tense. "Is that what you think it is?"

"Should we go inside to discuss this?" Jessie asked, inserting herself carefully.

"No." Jonny's answer was sharp. "That space is mine. We settle this first."

"My friend," Hadji said carefully, taking another step towards Ngama. He noticed Jonny bristle again and was silently grateful that his brother, for all his protective feelings, was in no way impeding him in his own choice. "What do _you_ think it is?"

Ngama smiled, but there was nothing warm in the expression. "I guess that depends who you ask." Moving very slowly, he eased the box back into the waiting van before he faced them, crossing his arms across his chest. "What you call heightened senses my father believes is some form of neurological condition, akin to schizophrenia. But the shaman I'm sure you remember well from our first meeting said something else."

"He told you that you were a protector of your people," Hadji concluded. "He told you that it was a gift, not a disease."

"He told me," Ngama said bitterly, "that to be such a _protector_ I had no will of my own. That I belonged to his village _and to him_ , to serve for the rest of my life. That I am like a warrior's spear – I am a tool to be refined and used against whomever he deems an enemy to our people. No better than a dog and with no more autonomy."

"I don't understand," Jessie shook her head. "Every time we've heard of peoples understanding about Sentinels before, like in Peru and Borneo, they've seen them as gifted and were respected. It was only the jerks from Wellmen and the totalitarian governments who saw Sentinels like servants or worse."

"People are people, Jess," Jonny said. "And that shaman was _not_ the nicest guy we've ever met."

"Given that he tried to kill us both, I have to agree," Hadji said, never looking away from Ngama. "If he was willing to trade your life once for his village, I am not surprised he now wants you to do the same."

"That was almost better than what father suggested," Ngama said. "We both pretend that I will be attending university next year, but just as I am touring colleges, he is also touring institutions in case he cannot cure me."

"It doesn't _need_ a cure!" Jonny was angry now. "It's just _you_! Like it's just me! There's nothing wrong with being born with perfect pitch or an unusual hair color or being double-jointed. This is _not_ different!"

"I agree with you and have so far rejected both my father and the shaman," Ngama said. "In a year, I will be of age by the laws of both our nations, and I will be legally able to choose my path. I came to Cascade because my research suggested there was someone here who might be able to help me do that."

"Blair Sandburg," Jessie said. When Ngama nodded, she let out a breath. "You're right. He _can_ help you. He helped Jonny, too. That's what we're doing here," she gestured at the SELF house. "He can teach you how to control your senses and everything."

"And the visions?" Ngama asked it as if it were a challenge.

"Yes," Hadji answered calmly. "They too are a part of being a Sentinel. We hypothesize that a true Sentinel is possessed not of five enhanced senses, but six. Sentinels are aware of that which is beyond traditional reason and perception."

"This all sounds very much like what I have been seeking," Ngama said, "and as you could not have anticipated this meeting nor my own search, it must be the truth. Even now, I cannot believe you would deceive me so far." He stopped and looked at Jonny with coldness. "But…"

"Sentinels are naturally territorial," Hadji explained. "Like wolves in a pack, they establish areas of control and hierarchies within their numbers that they defend fiercely. From what we have learned, Sentinels who are close in status – or, in your case, age – tend to clash with one another."

"I'll say," Jonny frowned even more, remembering the feeling of wanting to strike Jaga, especially any time the Sentinel from Borneo was anywhere near Hadji.

"Do you consider me a threat, Jonny Quest?" Ngama challenged.

"I don't know," Jonny said sharply. "Are you one?"

Ngama took a long breath. As he let it out slowly, he uncurled his arms from his chest and let them fall, palms turned out. He took another long breath, closing his eyes and visibly stilling himself. When he at last looked up, he met Jonny's eyes unflinchingly.

"I do not wish to be. You saved my life when I had no hope, both of you," he nodded to Hadji. "I did not know then that I was a Sentinel, as you call it."

"I didn't know either," Jonny said, aggression melting from his tone.

"If we could be friends and yet so different, can we not be friends when we have this in common?" Ngama took another breath, but this one shuddered. "I wish not to fight you, and yet I feel..."

"I feel it too," Jonny admitted, and he seemed more upset than angry.

"Let me," Hadji said softly to his brother. Jonny looked at him piercingly for a moment before nodding.

Hadji moved from Jonny's side to approach Ngama. He held out one hand, palm up. Almost without conscious thought, Ngama breathed in deeply through his nose, scenting what Hadji offered. But he made no move to touch Hadji, just to breathe and understand.

"You are a Sentinel's companion," Ngama finally said. "The shaman told me of one like you, that I might find and claim a partner or lover and through them achieve even greater powers."

"I am a Guide," Hadji affirmed. "I am Jonny's Guide."

At this, Ngama smiled. "Of course you are. You could never belong at the side of anyone else."

"You don't...um...want to fight over him?" Jessie asked awkwardly.

Ngama shook his head. "My heart tells me that, while you may be of help to me, and we have similar spirits, we are not compatible that way. Perhaps because our minds have already been one, I do not now wish to unite with your soul." He smiled a little. "But I think it is likelier that your soul already has a place to belong and I feel no great compulsion to resist that."

Hadji smiled too. Though it had been many years before, he had been very deeply connected to Ngama in the act of saving his life. Somehow, he was not surprised that their very closeness had dimmed Ngama's interest in him as a Guide.

Jonny smiled at last. "If we don't have to fight over Hadji, I'll feel better. I already did that once."

"I still feel..." Ngama trailed off with a shrug. "Uncomfortable," he finished.

"Jonny, just do that pack hierarchy thing and get it over with," Jessie said.

He shot her a mild glare but nodded. Crossing the distance between them, Jonny reached out. Ngama did not flinch, not even when Jonny put a hand on his shoulder, his thumb curving around his dark throat. Ngama did not tip his head as Jaga had done, but met Jonny's eyes steadily.

"This means you are the alpha of our pack?" Ngama asked.

"Unless you want to be. Then we have to sort it out," Jonny answered honestly.

Ngama huffed a laugh. "No. I am new to this country, new to these abilities, new to this future. And I have never sought authority. It's yours and welcome."

"Jonny doesn't exactly seek authority either," Jessie commented. "But it's easier this way for now." Then her eyes lit up. "I can't _wait_ to see what happens when we fill this place up with Sentinels, though!"

"More Sentinels?" Ngama asked.

"Come inside," Jonny invited him, dropping his hand but not his smile. "We've got a lot to tell you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cutting it close this time. Sorry about that!
> 
> Enjoy!

Jim stood on the roof looking over his city. It filled him up with something hard to identify, something potent. Cascade wasn't just bricks and buildings and streets and bridges and lights. It wasn't just neighborhoods and politics and parks and factories. It wasn't even just the people who lived there – though they in themselves were clearly the most important part of it.

But Cascade was also a collective will, a force to which thousands and thousands of minds and souls bent their strength. From different walks of life, different financial realities, different perspectives, different religions, different cultures came this one whole. This one city of people who dared to make a home between the sea and the mountains, on a relatively narrow strip of land, a permanent precipice. This one city of people who scoffed at forest fires, tidal waves, and a possible volcano to the north. Crime was a problem here, but the law-abiding citizens of Cascade had not been cowed or frightened away by it – they poured their resources into stronger police presences and neighborhood watches and soup kitchens. Like most human settlements, Cascade had started as someone's dream to build a community that would last against danger from within and from outside, a dream shared by many from the entrepreneurs to the dockhands, a dream that had lasted until its towers spired high and its suburbs scattered widely.

Jim loved Cascade. He loved the winds that blew in from the sea and smelled like morning and vastness (and a great many other things he carefully filtered out). He loved the city's ardent, passionate support for their basketball team – indeed, it was perfectly reasonable to declare Jags Basketball as one's official religion for the truly dedicated. He loved the city's mix of populations and cultures, from the Russian neighborhood to the Chinatown to the Mexican quarter. He loved the mountains that leaned over them to the east like sheltering arms, cupping a treasure and hiding it from the rest of the continent. Even if Jim would have happily rattled the teeth of a not-insignificant portion of the population for their illegal acts or their sheer stupidity or uselessness, he could not stop loving the city as a whole.

The instant he'd stepped outside where he could see through the air to much of Cascade, he'd felt better. The twitch remained, but it was no longer so angry. Now it was a call to focus, to seek.

"There's something," Jim said. "I'm just not sure what."

"Okay," Blair nodded. "Let's see if we can figure it out. I want you to close your eyes for a minute."

Jim sighed but obeyed.

"Clearly something is registering on your senses somewhere," Blair reasoned, "and since it was bugging you downstairs where Simon has his blinds drawn, it's probably not something you can perceive visually. Somewhere you're aware of something. So let's see if we can figure out which sense it is."

With his eyes closed, Jim automatically focused on his sense of hearing and of smell – they carried the city to him in a cacophony of input, but all of that was familiar. With the ease of long practice, he let each scent, each sound, filter through his mind – recognized, assessed, and dismissed without conscious effort in fractions of seconds. But the sheer volume of it started to overwhelm him and he tensed against a flood of sensations.

"Easy, Jim," Blair said soothingly, catching his arm. "Don't focus so hard. Try to relax. Just let things come to you."

He felt like growling back to his Guide that it was _not_ that easy, but that would break his concentration so he instead redoubled his forcible deep breathing. He was so caught up in it, he didn't even hear the unexpected beep from the phone in his pocket.

_There's definitely something_ , Jim thought to himself. _I almost know this feeling. It's like hearing part of a song and knowing the riff is familiar but not from where. It's almost like_ …

Another beep, but this time of both phones. Jim was so caught up, he didn't even notice Blair checking his own phone.

_It's not a sound or a smell at all_! Jim realized with a start. _It's something else_.

With that thought, the blue jungle crashed into his awareness.

Jim rolled his eyes at the jaguar that met him but he no longer fought against it so firmly. Not only had he promised Sandburg not to resist this aspect of himself as a Sentinel, but, more importantly, the jaguar had proved to be helpful a time or two. It was as if the jaguar, and Blair's wolf too for that matter, was more aware of the world than even Jim; as a Sentinel, he could still miss clues or signs of danger, but if those clues or signs were really important – read, relevant to the safety of either the Sentinel, the Guide, or their city – the spirit animals would drop hints. Cryptic, nonverbal, subtle hints, but hints nonetheless. Jim had begun thinking of his jaguar like a really well-developed avatar for his natural cop instincts, and that helped.

The jaguar this time looked relaxed, even nonchalant. Its tail was up and curved in the way of contented house-cats, and as Jim looked at it, the jaguar actually yawned. But it did turn its head to look deeper into the jungle, and as it did so, Jim's gaze followed it.

_Oh. Yeah, that would explain it_.

Jim opened his eyes to find himself on the roof again. "I figured it out!"

"Me too!" Blair grinned.

Simultaneously, they declared, "There's another Sentinel in town!"

Jim frowned but Blair bounced happily. "Man! How'd you know? Something mystical, right? But not like Alex. You got all paranoid and angry then, but you seem okay now, so I'm seriously hoping this guy isn't like Alex."

"Yes, it was mystical, no, I don't think it's going to be like her all over again, and how do you know?" Jim asked testily. It figured that the time he actually used that enhanced sixth sense awareness Sandburg would do an end-run around him anyway.

"Because Jonny and Hadji met him already and they let us know," Blair shrugged brightly.

Jim pulled out his phone to look at his messages. There were two. The second was from Jonny, telling Jim and Blair both that he'd encountered another Sentinel, an old friend. The message itself was brief, but even so Jim could tell from the tone of Jonny's words that he was comfortable with this particular person, from which Jim inferred Jonny and he had already figured out their relative status and all that stuff. Jim didn't really understand all those nuances yet, but he'd had the advantage: with Jaga and Jonny both, Jim had clearly been the alpha of the pack, so he hadn't had to posture or anything.

"Sandburg," Jim said, eyes flicking over the first message, "call up those kids and have them come down to the station as soon as they can get here. I want to see this Sentinel for myself before he gets any deeper in here."

"Sure thing," Blair agreed. Then, with a shrewd look, "Why come here, Jim? We could just as easily drop in on them?"

"Because I'm going to have to have a long conversation with Simon first," Jim said. He turned his phone to show his partner the message that hadn't come from Jonny. It was from Benton.

_Situation has changed. Contact me immediately. Likelihood we will require your presence here shortly_.

-==OOO==-

Jim was just walking back to his desk when Rhonda waved him over. He'd sent Blair ahead to wait for the kids and taken advantage of the isolation of the rooftop to put in his call to Benton and do some thinking. What had started as a sinking feeling had settled more into irritated resignation.

"Jim, Blair just went down to the lobby to get some kids?" she asked.

Jim glanced around the bullpen. Joel was nowhere to be seen – Jim's hearing told him he was a few doors down getting coffee. Rafe and Brown were at their desks helping to organize the piles of receipts Joel would be sorting through from each of the two arson crime scenes to see if they could match any customers. Daryl had already started compiling a list of businesses around the 221 bus line's various stops so they could cross-reference the receipts. Simon was in his office.

"Yeah," Jim answered. "You missed Jessie this morning? The kids are friends of ours. They're thinking about going to Rainier next year, and Sandburg is showing them around."

"Well, Simon said it was okay for them to come up," Rhonda shrugged. Then, with a wink to Daryl, who'd taken up residence at a table beside her desk for his internship, "If we get any more young people in here, we could open a college of our own!"

Daryl grinned at her. "Better than spending all day buried in a phone book!"

Jim caught Simon looking through his open door and smiling slyly. I wonder if _Operation Get Daryl Into School And Out Of The Academy is starting to work_ , Jim thought.

The elevator dinged and Blair appeared with the three kids Jim already knew and one new face following in his wake. Jim regarded the new Sentinel carefully. Dark skinned, tall, face marked with pronounced cheekbones and intelligent eyes, the young Sentinel's gaze landed on Jim instantly as if drawn magnetically. Jim noted that his Guide and the Quests had all moved subtly to both get out from between them and also to slightly shield the new Sentinel from other curious eyes.

Jim was suddenly aware of two things. First, that this Sentinel was young, younger than Jonny, even, and a little afraid. And second, that this Sentinel was part of his tribe, _had_ to be part of his tribe. Just like Jonny and Hadji. That he _fit_ against Jim' senses as easily as Simon, as easily as the Quests.

He waited until the group reached him, but his smile was all for the new Sentinel. "I'm Jim Ellison," he said with deliberate warmth. "Welcome to Cascade."

"My name is Ngama Zimbati," the youth answered, cautious but polite as he shook hands. "I have heard much about you, sir."

Jim put a hand on Ngama's shoulder. He glanced to Jonny who nodded with a grin. Hadji and Blair were smiling, too; Jessie's smile was more confused. But clearly the other Sentinel and Guides could feel what Jim could feel – Ngama was comfortable. Even Jaga had not fit so easily somehow. But then, Jaga had been angling for Hadji as a Guide, which had caused more than a little friction. Jonny's comfort with him demonstrated that Ngama had already passed that test.

"Good to have you aboard. You seem to fit in around here pretty well," Jim said. At that, Ngama relaxed.

But before anyone else could speak, there was the sound of a throat being pointedly cleared. "Ellison? Want to tell me why my bullpen is full of teenagers?"

"Yes, sir," Jim said, turning. "Mind if we take a few minutes?"

Simon frowned. "I guess not," he said, clearly expecting the worst.

"Jonny? Hadji? Jessie? Got something to talk to you about," Jim said as lightly as he could. Even so, all three tensed.

"Is everything okay?" Jonny asked quickly.

"Yes," Jim affirmed staunchly. "Just a change of plans."

"I believe I will wait here," Ngama said, looking between his friends and the elder Sentinel.

"Good idea," Blair agreed. "Hey, Daryl? Come on over."

Blair made quick introductions, an arm familiarly around Daryl's shoulders. "These are Jonny and Jessie and Hadji and their friend Ngama. Jim and I know Jonny and Hadji's dad and Jessie's dad. We need to talk to them with Simon for a bit. Can you keep Ngama company?"

"Sure," Daryl shrugged, putting a hand out to the taller boy. "Nice to meet you. I'm Daryl Banks. My dad's the captain."

"Oh, you're Daryl!" Jessie smiled at him. "I think your dad said you might play some basketball with us sometime."

"Um, yeah, okay," Daryl was caught off-guard.

Jonny grinned wickedly. "Yeah! Let's do it! Ngama, you play?"

"Yes," Ngama answered with a nod. "Though perhaps not well."

"Yeah, well, Jonny's no good either so that's fair," Jessie taunted him.

"That's it!" Jonny leaned to face her. "Me and Daryl against you and Ngama! You're going to eat those words!"

Blair noticed that Jonny had wisely put himself and the other Sentinel on opposite teams. That was a real act of fairness, because even though his own senses were still largely out, he was decidedly the only one to match a Sentinel for potential advantages.

"Um, hello? Are you coming in or not?" Simon called. "I could wait all day but, oh, wait, I'm the boss around here!"

"Yeah, we're coming," Jim said over his shoulder with a smirk.

"Be right back," Jonny assured Ngama. But it was Blair Ngama's eyes landed on as they all began to move. When alone in the elevator, the trio and Ngama had spilled a quick explanation of things to Blair, including Ngama's situation with his father and his desire to find Blair specifically for help.

Blair squeezed Ngama's shoulder as he went by. "You're among friends, here. Don't worry."

They disappeared into Simon's office and shut the door.

Daryl and Ngama stood regarding one another for a moment before Daryl smiled and shrugged. "Who knows what they're talking about? Wish I could listen in, but I'm just the lowly intern with the phone book."

"May I be of assistance?" Ngama offered. "I have little else to do while my friends are here."

"Help with this boring stuff?" Daryl huffed a laugh and practically threw his new friend into a chair. "If you want to numb your brain, go ahead!"

As Ngama listened to Daryl explain what they were doing and began to assist, however, he kept a part of himself doing just what Daryl had said – listening to the conversation in the office beyond.

"Okay, so who's going to tell me what's going on?" Simon sat back, looking at his crowd. They'd settled around the table where there was room for everyone to sit.

"Two things," Jim said. "First, Simon Banks meet Ngama Zimbati. Ngama is a Sentinel."

"What? Another one?" Simon glanced out the window before turning back. "Really?"

"Yup," Jessie nodded. "Jim wanted to meet him, which is why we came."

"And we're going to try to help him," Jonny added firmly.

"His home situation is not entirely amenable to developing his potential," Hadji said. "We encountered him entirely randomly, but given the situation, I believe this is further proof that nothing is ever truly random and that this is all as it should be."

Simon just sort of shook his head at that but did not argue – he'd only met Hadji the one time and found the kid was more confusing than Sandburg with all the solemnity of a sage. It would be like trying to argue with a waterfall.

"Okay, well, that only explains half of it," Simon said. He pinned his best detective with a look. "What's really going on, Jim?"

"I got a call from Benton," Jim said, instantly stilling the Quests. "He's okay. They both are," he amended quickly.

"But what?" Blair asked.

Jim took a breath. He had to play this carefully to preserve the slight untruth Benton and Race had told their kids while simultaneously making the case he had to make.

"They're abroad right now, meeting a contact about SELF," he said after a moment. "And he's asked me to fly out and join them."

"Why?" Blair asked.

"Now?" Simon frowned even more. "In the middle of a case?"

Jim decided to go with a straight truth. "Benton and Race are having trouble convincing their contact that it really is possible to achieve independent control over Sentinel senses. This contact has been in the system over there so long, they've only ever seen Sentinels who were, you know, struggling."

Even Simon had been briefed on what the group had learned earlier in the summer about how some governments kept Sentinels like trained dogs, but rather than collars and leashes they used psychological conditioning and learned helplessness to maintain control. A Sentinel could _use_ their senses fully, but they were kept from ever figuring out how to use them _independently_.

"So he wants you to come show them for sure that SELF really can help them," Jonny concluded. "That makes sense."

"Do you have to go right now?" Jessie asked.

Jim nodded. "Benton thinks their negotiations are dead in the water unless they can actually prove that freedom is possible for Sentinels."

"How am I going to explain you jetting off to wherever they are?" Simon wanted to know.

"Oh, that's easy," Blair spoke up. "He'll go with me."

"Chief…" Jim began.

His Guide fixed a fierce blue gaze on him. "No way, Jim. I am _not_ staying behind. Unknown situation abroad, almost certainly running into another Sentinel? I'm going with you. Plus, I might be able to help, too. I can tell them what I've learned, even take you through a few exercises so Benton's friend can see it for himself."

"It might not be safe," Jim cautioned.

At that, Simon laughed. "It's _never_ safe with either of you around."

"Besides," Blair ignored them, "remember that I've got actual clout now. If it's me asking Jim to go with me, the Commissioner can't say anything about it. I could even get the DHS to put in a formal request if it would help." He grinned. "The perks of working for SELF just keep on giving!"

Simon sighed heavily. "If he plays that card, I really don't have a leg to stand on. So you two are going to go out to Russia and hobnob with somebody." His eyes shifted across the table. "Where does that leave you three?"

"Oh, we'll be fine," Jonny said with a shrug. "Dad doesn't know we're here, actually."

"He doesn't?"

"Nope. And you won't tell him, right?" Jonny looked to Jim.

Jim shook his head. "You _should_ tell him yourself. But no, I won't do it for you. It's your business."

"We've got some schoolwork still," Jessie put in. "And we can tour the university on our own. We can even get back up to SELF if we need to."

"And there is Ngama," Hadji said. "I may not be you, Blair, but I can at least begin to help him with his Sentinel abilities until you return. We shall have plenty to keep us busy."

"There is almost no part of this that I like," Simon grumbled. "I'm losing my best detectives in the middle of a case where I really need them, and they're leaving you three terrors loose in my city."

"If all goes well," Hadji returned politely, "we shall be here permanently next spring."

"Don't remind me," Simon groaned.

"We could help with your investigation," Jesse said sweetly.

"And don't start that again," wagging a finger at her. "For that matter, I'm going to assign Daryl to stay with you kids to keep you from getting anywhere _near_ the investigation." He smiled. "Call it a cultural exchange."

The trio traded glances. Investigating with Daryl around would be harder, not to mention it would curtail anything they might want to do at the SELF location. Plus, of course, they couldn't talk about Sentinels with him, nor begin helping Ngama. But on the other hand, that only gave them some new ideas.

"Okay," Jonny agreed. Only Simon didn't know him well enough to know his easy acceptance was too easy.

"If we're done," Jim said, "Blair and I need to pack. Benton was going to call in a favor to get us on a flight tonight and we don't have a lot of time."

"Go, go," Simon waved at the door imperiously.

But when Jim and Blair rose, they faced the three Quests for a moment.

"It'll only be a few days," Jim said a little stiffly. "We'll be right back to help."

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Blair asked with genuine concern.

"All is as it should be," Hadji said serenely. "You will be where you are the most needed. We are in no true danger here, and should anything prove too much, we will retreat to the lodge. We are well capable of managing longer than a few days alone in a city."

"Take care of our dads, okay?" Jessie asked. "Doctor Quest wouldn't call you in if he didn't really need you."

Jim surprised them both by giving the girl a hug. "I know that. I'll look out for them." His eyes landed on her and they exchanged a knowing look. "Take care of these boys for me."

"You know I will, Jim."

"Hey!" Jonny laughed. "I can take care of myself."

"We know," Blair said with a grin. "Don't think we've forgotten who we're dealing with here."

"As you shouldn't," Hadji said brightly.

"Simon," Jim said, resting a hand on Hadji's shoulder and cheerfully ruffling Jonny's hair, "look out for these three for us. They'll be staying at the SELF house near the university, but you can call them any time." He glanced down at the younger Sentinel. "Check in with Simon twice a day and with me once a day at least, okay?"

Simon and Jonny rolled their eyes in perfect sync.

"Blessed Protectors," Blair sighed to Hadji. "What are you going to do?"

"We can but endure," he answered with a small smile.

-==OOO==-

The Quests opted to remain at the police station until dinner time, ostensibly to help Daryl with his tedious task, but they ended up assisting Joel as well with his own analysis. Jim's long-ago offer to Jonny that he would be welcome at the station with his computer abilities came to pass when the trio worked their magic to use the Quest system to import the data directly and begin the analysis of thousands of receipts. By morning they would not only know who, if anyone, was a common shopper at either of the two scenes of the fire, but they would also have cross-checked employment records against any likely offices on the 221 route.

And even Simon's grumbling couldn't obscure the fact that they were actually moving the investigation forward by leaps and bounds, so he allowed them to remain. Under supervision.

The real reason the Quests stayed at the station, though, was to get to know Daryl and Simon a bit more. Simon was a part of the secret, of course, but they'd had limited interaction with him. He and his son felt like unknown pillars, part of that which held up their futures and kept it standing strong, but they didn't know exactly what weight to put on them. When Simon offered to order pizzas for the lot of them before their basketball game at a park near the SELF house, they accepted excitedly.

A comfortable, casual dinner over some pizzas was exactly the introduction they needed.

The six of them sat on the back porch of the SELF house, looking across the tiny patch of yard to other yards and houses in the neighborhood, many of which were owned by Rainier University or affiliated groups like the fraternities and sororities. It was a lovely evening and half the block was out grilling or gardening or throwing frisbees or balls around.

"So, Ngama," Simon said politely, "I hear you're interested in Rainier as a possible school?"

"Yes sir," Ngama replied. "It has a very strong medical program as well as certain extra-curriculars that interest me."

"Medical, huh?" Simon eyed his own son. "It's a great path, you know. Becoming a doctor. You'd be out there helping people, curing cancer, and earning pretty well, too."

"Yeah," Daryl rolled his eyes at his father, "but not everybody's cut out to be a doctor, dad." He looked to Ngama. "It's cool if you think you can hack it, though."

"Ngama's father is one of the foremost medical researchers in the world," Hadji said. "But the path of a father does not always determine the path of his son."

"Yeah," Jonny smiled. "Good thing, too, or I'd be in big trouble. Maybe _you'll_ live up to dad, Hadj. We both know I won't."

"So what do you hope to major in, Jonny?" Simon wanted to know.

"I'm not sure yet," he shrugged. "I haven't figured out what I'm going to do afterwards."

"What about you, Daryl?" Jessie neatly deflected the conversation from Jonny and what could be an awkward half-conversation about SELF around the one outside the secret. "Are you planning on any further education?"

"I'd like to go to the Academy and be a cop like dad," he answered with his head up proudly.

"And _I'd_ rather he go to college like all of you," Simon said with a slight glare.

"I want to help people," Daryl protested. "The stuff I've seen, the stuff you've handled with Jim and Blair. You've saved lives, dad. It's _important_."

"Those who choose to stand as guardians over their people have a tireless, thankless job. It requires the highest honor and the deepest courage," Hadji said.

Simon turned his glare onto the Indian young man. "It's also dangerous, it doesn't pay well, and it makes it hard to have a life outside of the job."

"There are other ways to protect people," Jessie pointed out. "My dad was in the Navy for a long time before he became a bodyguard to Doctor Quest. He's saved lots of lives and not just ours."

"No. _Absolutely not_ ," Simon denied. "From what I've heard, being a cop is like _kindergarten_ compared to the trouble your family gets in."

"He's got a point, Jess," Jonny laughed.

"Maybe," she nodded, "but I still think it's important." She shrugged at Daryl. "There are lots of ways to help people in the world. You've just got to figure out what you're willing to give up to get there."

"Speaking of giving up," Hadji said, "do you still intend on your tournament of basketball tonight? It is beginning to get late."

"Oh, we are _so_ on!" Jonny said, bouncing to his feet. He looked to the others. "Are you in?"

"I'm ready to take you on," Jessie returned. "Ngama, you with me?"

"A man should never refuse a challenge, particularly when he is also defending the honor of a lady," Ngama said regally.

"Well, when you put it like _that_ ," Daryl laughed, "we'd all better go through with it!"

"I notice you're leaving me and Hadji out of the running," Simon said slyly.

Jonny looked at him in surprise. "You wanna play?"

"I may not be as young as all of you," Simon retorted, "but I still know my way around the court. Hadji? You in?"

"When the stars are aligned against you, you must adjust your course to compensate," he said.

"I think that means yes," Jessie translated.

It took only a few minutes for the group to clean up their food and for those not already in appropriate clothing to change. They walked a few blocks to a park where an empty court sat waiting. Jonny spun the ball expertly up onto one finger.

"So, Daryl, do you want your dad or Hadji with us?" he asked.

Daryl grinned. "No offense to you, Hadji, but I've seen my dad play and I definitely want him on my side. Plus, he's way taller than all of us."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, son," Simon couldn't help the grin that spread across his face at this affirmation from Daryl.

They lined up – Jonny against Ngama, Daryl with Jessie, and Simon against Hadji. Without someone to tip off, they gave the ball to Daryl to start. He shot a perfect opening, the ball bouncing off the rim making it anyone's chance to start the game. They played until a score, when the team that hadn't scored would take the ball to the top of the key to begin again.

"It's too bad Jim and Blair aren't here," Simon said at one point as he dribbled to the line after a successful 2-pointer by Ngama. "They both love to play, and they're not half bad, either."

"Neither are you, dad!" Daryl cheered.

They played three games to 21 points. In the end, it was Jonny, Daryl, and Simon who just squeaked by in the final game by winning 21-19. By that time, all six were exhausted. But they had also learned about one another. The Quests learned that Ngama was not as aggressive as the other Sentinels they had known, but he had a keen awareness of his surroundings and an almost prophetic ability to anticipate the moments of his teammates. They learned that Simon was everything they'd ever heard about him – strong, fair, funny in his own dry way, and a very good sport. And they learned that Daryl was much like his father, more than he might realize, but he also had a burning desire to prove himself, to stand up tall against not only his father's shadow, but these intimidating peers he found himself surrounded by. To the Quests' eyes, he did not disappoint.

Daryl regarded the Quests as he rubbed a towel over his head, watching the way Hadji anticipated Jonny's search for the water-bottle before he'd even begun to glance around for it, the way Jessie casually refolded a long piece of white material for Hadji to replace his sweat-soaked turban, the way Jonny teased Jessie even as he congratulated her. He'd heard of Doctor Quest a little – anybody who followed any kind of news would have – and after his dad had mentioned the Quests to him, he'd done some more research. For all that Doctor Quest seemed like some sort of mythical hero of the intellectual word, these three seemed...normal. The kinds of people he would want to befriend, actually. Ngama too.

"Well," Simon stretched, dropping an arm around his son's shoulders, "we should get going. Another long day ahead of us tomorrow, I think."

"We'll come by the station in the morning," Jessie offered. "We should at least make sure we get you all the results of the computer analysis."

"That would be great!" Daryl said, maybe a little too eagerly.

"What do you have planned after that?" Simon wanted to know. He knew Jim was counting on him to watch out for these three, and, if he wasn't mistaken, Jonny was still technically underage.

"Well, we have a few things to handle," Jonny glanced at Hadji briefly, "but then we thought we might start touring the campus a little. Maybe meet a few professors or something. Get used to Cascade. That sort of thing."

"I would like to accompany you, if you don't mind," Ngama said.

"We'd like that a great deal," Hadji assured him. "In addition, if you would like to share in our accommodations at the house, you are more than welcome."

Ngama's smile was brilliant. "I will gladly accept your hospitality."

Simon glanced to his own son. The flash of yearning on Daryl's face gave him all he needed. He cleared his throat. "You're all newcomers to the area, right? And Jim did ask me to watch out for you." He looked sideways to Daryl. "If you wanted to take a break from your internship tomorrow afternoon, I could spare you around the station. These guys can find their way on their own, I'm sure, but they'd have a lot more fun with a native Cascadian."

"Yeah?" Daryl grinned. "That would be great!"

"We'll catch up with you tomorrow, then," Jonny smiled at Daryl. "You can show us all the stuff that isn't on a map."

"Count on it."

-==OOO==-

They settled into a routine over the next two days. In the mornings, Jonny, Jessie, Hadji, and Ngama would start their day with Sentinel work, primarily to help Ngama begin to attain a new level of control, but also continuing to attempt to reignite Jonny's lost senses. Around mid-morning, they made their way to the police station to check in with Simon and offer what computer assistance they could to Joel's ongoing investigation. Their original analysis had far too many people on it to be any help, so they began attempting other avenues of inquiry from recently fired individuals to scanning for purchases of items that could have been used in the detonator.

At lunchtime, Daryl would join them and the five of them would head back towards Rainier. The first day Daryl focused on giving a basic tour of what he knew of the campus, but the second day he connected with a friend from high school who was already a student on campus and enlisted her in giving them a more complete overview. Daryl found he enjoyed his time as a tourist, particularly because the Quests made it so interesting. Daryl had lived most of his life in Cascade, so when Hadji talked about a childhood in Calcutta, or Jonny recalled an adventure at the North Pole, the places came alive for him through their vivid stories. And he found he could listen to Jessie talk for hours about all the places she had been and adventures she had had.

But there was also a secret they were keeping and he knew it. After the second day, he resolved to ask them about it for sure – as Blair was always telling him, you never learned anything if you were afraid to ask questions. Even though he would have bet his entire meager savings that they wouldn't share with him.

But that didn't prevent him from starting with his own father. Who was _also_ keeping secrets.

"Dad?" Daryl plopped on the couch after his third night out with the Quests. He normally stayed with his mom during the week, but with the internship it had made sense for him to be at his dad's house for a while. He'd timed his question perfectly – his father had been home for a couple of hours nursing a short glass of beer before bed. Daryl had waited until quite late in the evening when his father was mellow and beginning to think about sleep; it was when he was relaxed, open-minded, and the most at ease.

"Something on your mind?" Simon asked, setting down the page of newspaper he'd been reading.

"What's SELF for?" Daryl asked.

Simon let out a long breath. He'd known this would happen – his son was sharp to begin with and it wasn't like anyone was trying to hide the existence of the Foundation. "It was set up by Doctor Quest for the study of the human capacity to perceive stimulus," he repeated the simple answer.

"Yeah, that's what Jonny said, too," Daryl frowned. "But you know what it kind of reminds me of?"

_Oh, lord, here we go_ , Simon thought.

The ringing of his cell phone broke the moment. With an apologetic glance to Daryl, Simon grabbed it from the table. "Banks."

"Captain Banks! It's me, Jessie! We need your help!"

"Jessie! What's going on?" Simon was on his feet in a flash, already striding for the door and stepping into his nearest pair of shoes. He wasn't even aware of Daryl listening after him.

"There's a fire at a computer lab at Rainier University and Jonny and Ngama are inside it!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know what my enduring lesson is from this chapter? That stories with a split narrative over the International Date Line are HARD. I won't even make you suffer through the horrible matrix of plot versus time I had to use to track what happens when in Cascade versus Fokino, Russia. The MATH, you guys. Ugh.
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> Enjoy!

Jim woke to find Blair leaning over him holding a steaming mug.

"Just try it, Jim," Blair forestalled the obvious bleary-eyed growl. "It helps with the jet lag, trust me."

Jim _could_ have reminded his partner that he was no stranger to international travel, even if he hadn't crossed the Date Line many times – most of his work had been within the Western Hemisphere or he'd gone east instead of west. He _could_ have reminded Sandburg that only a few months before, Jim had flown to Borneo and started in on finding his missing Guide in the jungle almost at once, and any jet lag he'd had he'd ignored. He _could_ have reminded Blair that he hated when he was given something to eat or drink without being told what was in it first.

But all of that would have taken _effort_. Jim downed the mug in just a few gulps.

"Actually, that wasn't too bad," he said, surprised. He blinked and found that his eyes didn't feel like they were trying to open against half-ton weights. "What was it?"

"Honestly? Mostly just chamomile tea mixed with one of your protein powders and some honey," Blair answered. "And I scraped a little melatonin in as well. There's lots of theories about jet lag, but the chamomile is calming as well as hydrating, the melatonin helps your body-clock reset, and the protein stimulates your body to start waking up and digesting. Simple."

Jim shrugged, but he was grateful for the clear-headedness that followed the odd remedy. The travel had been difficult. It had been 11 hours on the flight from Cascade to Tokyo, and another 3 on a connection to the nearest airport in Vladivostok. Then there had been 4 of the most tedious hours of Jim's life, including tax season and court arraignment appearances. It was only half that time to get to the city of Fokino, but they had been stopped three different times at checkpoints to show their papers and approvals and answer the same ten awkward questions all before a short ferry ride out to the island. If it hadn't been for the diplomatic pouch waiting for them in Vladivostok with all Benton's hastily-arranged clearance as well as a few prepared answers for the questions, it could have taken another several hours to get in and out of the perimeter around the closed city. By then, it was Thursday morning in Cascade but the middle of the night going into Friday in Russia, so they'd been hustled to a coldly official-looking building to sleep. Truthfully, by that time, Jim couldn't have told if he was going to bed in a prison or a palace – only that it had a bed.

"What time is it?" he asked, sitting up more fully and stretching. "And how is it you're so awake?" he looked at Blair. His usually-non-monring-person partner was up and dressed and apparently ready to go. Jim stood up to grab his pants and yank a shirt over his head.

"It's about 9am Friday morning local time, which makes it Thursday evening back in Cascade," Blair answered. "As for why I'm awake, it's because we've got visitors."

A moment later, the door to the sparse room opened revealing Benton and Race, the latter bearing a tray laden with food and, wonderfully, coffee.

"Glad you made it in okay," Race greeted them as he set the tray down on the one small table/desk in the room and passed a plate to Jim. "We left word at the city's gate that we were expecting you. You'll still have to check in with the officials again, and you'll probably get interviewed, but they're not going to question you too closely."

"Why not?" Blair asked, retrieving a plate for himself. He eagerly spread some extra jam over the Russian blini. Without even looking up, he said quietly, "They're kind of like pancakes with jam, Jim. Nothing weird."

Jim didn't acknowledge the hint, but he dug in grateful to know what he was eating.

"I'm ostensibly here on a request from the Russian government," Benton answered. "The clearances come down from so high there's nobody here with enough rank to even open the file that says what I'm researching. They'll take one look at the seal on your documents and realize they aren't cleared to read them. They might give you a hard time, but they can't ask you anything that might pose a breach of secrecy for their own government."

"How _exactly_ did you manage that?" Jim wanted to know.

Benton shrugged.

"You don't want to know," Race answered, pouring a cup each of coffee for the Sentinel and Guide and handing them around. "Heck, even _I_ don't want to know."

"So why don't we get down to business?" Benton said smoothly. Jim and Blair exchanged glances – sometimes they were really, really glad Doctor Quest, with all his favors and influence, was on their side. "Putyatin Island isn't where most of the people we want to meet are stationed. They're back in Fokino. But through my connections I was able to arrange to meet one or two when we first arrived."

"It didn't go well," Race put in.

"How so?" Blair wanted to know.

"The first was a man named Dominik. I was able to get him assigned to me as an official escort for the first few days. He knew all about my security clearance, so he was pretty receptive to answering my questions about Fokino. And I did eventually get him to admit to being a Sentinel himself. But as soon as I asked him about control over his senses or alternatives to the Russian program, he shut down."

"Got himself reassigned," Race added. "The next escort wasn't a Sentinel."

"But one of the guards on the island is," Benton said. "A woman named Katia. I was able to talk to her a bit more than Dominik, and she eventually pointed me to Ivan. She said nobody, not one Sentinel, would talk to us again unless Ivan gave the all clear."

"Who's Ivan?" Jim asked.

Race and Benton exchanged a small smile. "We're not even going to try to explain Ivan to you. It'll go better if you react naturally the first time you meet, anyway," Race said. "But Ivan agreed to talk to us eventually. We put everything on the table about SELF and about Guides and what we're trying to do. Ivan was…not impressed. That's when we called you in."

"Ivan agreed to talk to a Sentinel to prove what we were saying is true," Benton let out a breath. "When we said Blair was coming too, that started something of a buzz. It sounds to me like the Sentinels really do need our help and, frankly, would like to know more about who they really are. But we've got to get past Ivan first."

"When do we meet him?" Jim asked,

"As soon as you're ready," Benton answered.

Jim shoved the last of his breakfast into his mouth, noting that it was very tasty even without Sentinel senses, and put his plate on Race's tray. He was reaching for his shoes before Blair got the hint and began gulping down the end of his coffee. "I'm ready now."

"Good," Benton smiled.

"Anything we should know about this Ivan person going in?" Blair asked, bouncing to his feet as if the rush of caffeine had just launched him from his seat.

"Just be yourselves," Race advised. "We're not out to impress anybody here. If they don't like you, it won't matter what we say. And if we want them to join us, they have to know us like we really are."

After an hour spent closed in a small office with an official member of the Russian military who, as Benton had said, mostly irritated Jim with meaningless questions before letting the pair leave, it was a short walk from the tiny government-run hotel to what looked like a local café. Jim's senses were all on alert, and he knew with absolute certainty that he was in the territory of another Sentinel. Of a lot of Sentinels, actually. He couldn't see or smell or hear them, not exactly, but still he knew in a way so primal he couldn't even identify it that he was an interloper here.

"I hope this is a good idea," he muttered.

"We were invited," Blair said softly. "You'll do your posturing thing and it'll all be fine."

"And if it's not?" Jim asked.

"Here." Race pressed something into his hand. Jim looked to find a pair of extremely elaborate ear-plugs. He knew from their basic make that they were white-noise earplugs like those Blair had gotten him years ago, but these were probably Quest technology. Race passed another set to Blair. "If it gets hairy, put them in. We're ready for an unfriendly outcome, and even a non-Sentinel will need them if we have to get creative clearing out of here."

Jim and Blair smiled and nodded. Yeah, if things went south with a foreign tribe of Sentinels, an unexpected and piercing loud noise would certainly ensure them at least the start of a getaway.

Benton led the way into the café and went straight to the counter. "We're here to see Ivan," he said in English. The man facing him nodded once and jerked a thumb over his shoulder at a back door. "Thank you," Benton answered politely.

The feeling of tension grew in Jim's chest as he followed the scientist, Blair right on his heels and Race taking up rearguard. Jim wasn't quite sure if he wanted to walk in with a gun out and readied or if he wanted to grab his Guide and run for it. Maybe both. The fact that he could tell the room had more than one one white noise generator in it did nothing to ease his worry and a great deal to increase it.

As soon as the four Americans had entered the room, Jim and Blair stopped in surprise, barely cognizant of Race shutting the door behind them.

"Ivan, this is Jim and Blair, the Sentinel and Guide I told you about," Benton said. He smiled at his friends. "Gentlemen, please meet Ivanna Afinogenova, known to the local Sentinels as 'Ivan the Terrible.'"

Jim blinked at the woman before him. Though her clothing was simple and unadorned and her grey hair was wispy with ancient curl, she held herself with no less dignity than an empress. Her face was lined with age and he could discern from the threshold the slight swelling of her joints under her skin even against her heavyset, round figure that spoke of a lifetime of brutal work. But she rose from her straight-backed chair with the grace of a woman of twenty.

"So you are the Sentinel," she said to him coolly in English with only the barest trace of an accent. "Your Doctor Quest says you are different from those I have known my whole life. I do not yet see why."

Then her eyes fell on Blair. For a moment, the tension of the room seemed to hum.

And then Blair straightened his shoulders and walked towards her, staring directly into her eyes as if there was no one else in the world.

"I understand," he said. "I see you somehow."

There were two other men in the room, and both moved to intercept Blair, but a tiny gesture from the woman stilled them. She allowed Blair to finish his approach. He held out both his hands, palms up.

"I'm like you," Blair said softly.

"I know," she said. "I see the light in you." She put her hands in Blair's. "It is good to meet you, young wolf."

Blair grinned brilliantly. "It is an honor, Mother Crane."

Her dark eyes widened and then crinkled with joy. "You may call me Ivan if you wish. Many do." Without releasing Blair, she turned to Benton. "You have told me the truth, Doctor Quest. I apologize for doubting you. But these men and women have been mine for many years. Their safety is my only concern."

"I thought Sentinels protect the tribe?" Race asked.

"And Guides protect the Sentinels," Blair said firmly.

"Sit, please," Ivan invited, releasing one of Blair's hands. "There is much to discuss." She returned to her chair and Blair gently helped her into it before settling into the vacant seat at her side where she could maintain the contact.

"Chief, can you tell me what's really going on?" Jim asked as he moved to a chair next to his partner. He couldn't help but put a hand on Blair's shoulder protectively.

"Jim, she's a Guide, like me," Blair said. Jim rolled his eyes – yeah, he'd got that already. "As soon as I walked in the room, I could tell. And I could even see her spirit animal! It's some kind of crane. I guess that's how she could see my wolf."

"It is a Sandhill Crane," Ivan clarified. "It is important always to be precise with the dreamwalkers."

"Dreamwalkers?" Benton asked.

"What you call 'spirit animals,' we call dreamwalkers," she explained. "All Sentinels dream of a creature with the power to enter their dreams and the dreams of other Sentinels. These creatures may warn of danger or may aid a Sentinel in distress. A few Sentinels who are lost to the void speak of seeing their dreamwalker many times before they are consumed within their senses."

"And you can always see them?" Blair asked. "I could see yours, and I've seen Jim's, but I've never seen the spirit animal or dreamwalker of any other Sentinel or Guide."

"You are still young and naive," Ivan said. "When you have witnessed Sentinels destroy one another because of a dreamwalker, you too will learn to see them always."

" _Destroy_ one another?" Benton was alarmed.

Ivan looked at him serenely. "All in time, Doctor Quest. There are many secrets of my people I have guarded alone. I will not share them all for nothing in return." She looked to the two men who had not moved from where they flanked the room. They were conspicuously tense and aggression still radiated from them. Ivan sighed delicately. "Dominik, Dmitri, what is your will?"

The two men eyed Blair for a moment then turned to Jim. Then one stepped forward. "I am Dmitri. I am the senior Sentinel in Fokino." His eyes narrowed. "We will fight, you and I."

"Fight?" Blair asked. "No, you should just need to, you know, one of you accept the other as leader and that would be that. Right?" He looked back to Ivan.

"Dmitri has not been in his place for long," she said. "After the death of my husband Ilja, Dmitri has taken care of us. Dominik is younger and not as strong, but has been in Fokino much longer. How they decide to accept your Sentinel is up to them." She smiled a little tightly. "Be grateful they choose not something more unpleasant."

"Tomorrow afternoon," Dominik said. "I will arrange for the others to come. You will meet us here at 4:00." Then, at the slight storm on Jim's face, he said, "Be not concerned. It is a fight, not to kill but to understand. Unless you are foolish enough that you do not surrender when you are beaten. We do not wish to harm you."

"And Blair?" Jim asked tightly. He was fine with taking on whoever they wanted to throw at him if that's how they wanted it. And he wasn't too worried about Benton and Race – those two could handle themselves. But his Guide…

"This man is under my protection," Ivan announced with a ringing authority. She lifted Blair's hand still clasped in her own. "You will tell all to treat him as you would treat me, no matter the outcome. And," she pinned her two Sentinels with a firm gaze, "if his Sentinel wins, he will take my place among you."

"Wait, I'll do _what_?" Blair spluttered.

But Ivanna was not listening. She rose, releasing his hand at last, and moving regally towards the door. Dmitri and Dominik fell in behind her. She turned with a graceful dip of her head.

"Enjoy Putyatin Island, gentlemen. I will see you all tomorrow and then we shall talk some more."

-==OOO==-

The four spent the rest of the day getting familiar with the island. Benton and Blair took every moment they could to pull out one of Benton's little white noise machines to talk eagerly about the short interview with Ivan, but without more information they didn't get far. Jim was more focused on keeping watch. He knew without opening his senses even one click above normal that he was always under the observation of at least one of the local Sentinels.

"So, what'd you think of Ivan the Terrible?" Race asked him while Benton and Blair conferred quietly.

"Why do they call her that?" Jim wanted to know.

Race shrugged. "The story we got was that Ivanna has been working with Sentinels for a long time. Her husband was one, and now that we know she's a Guide, I guess it makes sense. She takes care of them, helps them maintain their environments and their senses. She was a cook in the forces and tended to follow whatever assignment her husband had."

"Sure, but 'the Terrible?'"

"From what Benton found out, I guess she has a way of making her displeasure known," Race said. "The way I hear it, the higher-ups got tired of fighting her on whether or not she and her husband would be posted with large numbers of Sentinels in distress. She made their lives miserable somehow, though nobody will say how, exactly. I'm not surprised. Seems like a tough lady to cross."

"It would have been a moniker of pride from her people," Blair piped up. "The real Ivan the Terrible was a brilliant leader who changed Russia profoundly, modernizing the country, expanding it, and initiating reforms that have their echoes in place even today. We translate his name as 'terrible' in English, but a better word for the Russian meaning might be 'formidable' or even 'magnificent and fear-inspiring to one's enemies.'"

"That makes a lot more sense," Jim agreed. "Formidable is right."

"Dmitri's no slouch either," Benton put in. "Are you going to be okay facing him?"

"Sure," Jim raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. "He wants a little fight to prove he's big man on campus."

"You might win," Race put in. "He's older than you, and his senses probably aren't as stable."

"Maybe," Jim allowed, "but honestly? I hope not."

"Why?" Blair asked.

Jim met his partner's confusion with a quiet, firm voice. "Because I don't know what exactly Madam Terrible meant when she said you'd take her place if I won, but if she thinks you're staying here to be nanny to a bunch of Russian military Sentinels, she's got a lot to learn about how _real_ Sentinels protect their Guides."

As the afternoon and evening wore on, Jim grew more taciturn and even Blair and Benton felt their keen interest turn quiet against his tension. Jim didn't even go to sleep until he'd bullied his partner into dragging his own small cot into Jim's room for the night. The feeling of being surrounded by Sentinels was beginning to claw at him, and he reacted decisively. In Cascade, the presence of Alex Barnes had caused him to push Blair as far away as possible. Jim was determined not to make that mistake again. So he found himself almost prowling around his partner, even while he slept, and keeping him within inches all the following morning. If Blair was bothered, he didn't mention it.

But both Blair and Benton noted Jim's increased protectiveness, far more than usual, and wondered if it was the unknown situation or the proximity of so many Sentinels that engendered such feelings so strongly in the detective.

At last the appointed time came, and Jim was near to breaking with rising frustrated impatience. It was Dominik who met them at the café.

"We will walk to the place," he said without preamble. "Everyone else is already there."

Two miles later, they emerged from a rocky path to a smooth, broad beach. A circle had been marked out by tall stones and a few upright posts, and Dmitri waited in its center, shirtless and stretching. Ranged along the pale sands were what looked like several dozen men and women, none younger than thirty-five and not older than fifty-five, Ivan alone in front of them. Dominik moved to her side, the four Americans trailing behind.

"They're all Sentinels, Chief," Jim said lowly.

Blair's eyes were wide. "I know," he whispered. "I can kind of tell."

Ivan raised a hand for silence as the visitors approached. "This is Jim," she said calmly. "Dmitri has chosen to fight him for leadership of our people. Do you accept Dmitri's choice?"

There was a shout of affirmations from the assembled people.

"Jim," she turned to him, and he felt oddly like he ought to be bowing to all her ageless authority, "I know you did not come here to lead us. But we must see your strength so that we might trust your words and your gifts. Please compete well."

Jim found himself nodding. As he began to move towards the circle, Blair grabbed his arm.

"Be careful, okay?"

Jim smiled. "Don't worry, Chief. However this ends, I won't keep my Guide waiting."

He entered the ring.

-==OOO==-

Hadji turned his gaze from Jessie back to the building. The three-story glass and brick edifice stood like a glowing skeleton of its former self, most of the broad glass windows blown out by the explosion that had demanded the attention of the two Sentinels even from off-campus. But long before the blast, Ngama had been tense, unable to articulate any specific trouble but somehow aware that _something_ was wrong. They had been out walking together to try to allay Ngama's fears when those fears had been confirmed instead. The four of them had rushed to the scene at once.

"I'm sorry, Jessie," Hadji said quietly. She met his look with pure anger.

"Don't you _dare_ , Hadji Singh Quest! You can't go in there alone while I'm stuck on the phone with Captain Banks! Don't even _think_ about it!" As if to emphasize her point, Bandit in her arm yipped urgently.

"Please wait here, both of you," he said politely apologetically. Then he began to run towards the building.

Before the fires had spread so quickly, the four of them had arrived in time for Ngama and Jonny to duck through the flames – both had known that there were students trapped inside. Jessie and Hadji had stayed behind to call the emergency services, but while Jessie remained on the phone with Captain Banks, Hadji had made his report to the 911 operator quickly. By now, it had been several minutes, and neither Ngama nor Jonny had emerged even though many students had already evacuated.

Hadji paused at the front door, assessing rapidly. He could see that there were at least a few sprinklers going off from the ceiling, giving him a clear path inward. But he knew how electrical fires tended to go – the simple materials of the building might be extinguished by water, but the computers and other technological equipment that was now burning would not be. It meant that even above the site of the original incendiary device, the worst of the fire would be where the greatest concentration of computers or servers would be, which was probably where the people were likely to have been as well.

Hadji waited just long enough to dunk his turban under one of the streams of warm, slightly strange water to give himself some protection. Then he threw himself forward into the conflagration.

"Ngama! Jonny!" he shouted.

Guided purely by instinct, Hadji turned to run up a flight of metal stairs made slippery by the water. He coughed and pulled a length of his turban down to cover his mouth. The stairs were stable, but the smoke was getting worse and he could hear the small popping of computer components exploding, compounding the problem.

"Hadji!" Ngama appeared at the top of the stairs on the second floor, one young woman in his arms and two more holding onto him and following blindly in the thick, choking smoke. "You must get out of here!"

"Where's Jonny?" Hadji returned, charging upwards.

Ngama paused for a moment. Hadji could see his struggle to listen, so he interceded automatically. "Focus your hearing, my friend. Dismiss any sounds but those of people and listen only for them."

Ngama coughed but nodded. Hadji bought time for him by offering a hand to one of the two women and helping her down the flight of steps. The other was stumbling, but she blindly reached to the girl in Ngama's arms and got her over her shoulder. Hadji steadied her down the stairs and the waiting young woman got an arm around them both as the three continued to make their exit.

"I have him!" Ngama confirmed after another moment. "Hurry!"

Hadji followed unquestioningly as Ngama turned to run up the next flight of stairs to the top floor. The metal was wet and blackened by soot and there was an awful smell in the air. He wondered how Ngama was ignoring such a pungent, sickening odor and realized he must have his sense of smell and taste all the way suppressed instinctively. Hadji stopped so suddenly he almost went backwards, seizing Ngama's shirt and dragging him to a halt.

"Go back!" he cried. "There are chemicals in the air. As a Sentinel, they're much more dangerous for you!"

Ngama shook his head but Hadji yanked on the shirt and all but threw his friend back down the stairs. "I will find Jonny! You must go or you will be poisoned!"

Then he charged up, heedless of the danger to himself. Jonny had been in these noxious fumes far longer.

Hadji knew better than to try shouting for his brother – it would only invite more smoke into his lungs. _Let the wisdom of the Guide be with me_ , he spared a moment to pray. At a landing with three different hallways all heading in different directions, he turned left and started to run. The carpet was soaked and stained under his feet, but the fires continued unabated, slowly spreading as that which could not be extinguished by water melted.

At a small door only partly ajar Hadji froze, then kicked it all the way open. Two bodies lay on the floor.

"Jonny!" Hadji threw himself to his knees, touching his brother's throat. He could have collapsed with relief at the pulse and evidence of breathing, labored though it was. Hadji stretched to the other figure, realizing that this man was alive as well. But his relief turned to a new kind of fear; Hadji knew he could never carry them both to safety.

Before he was forced to make an abhorrent decision, he heard shouting.

"Here! Up here!" he yelled as loudly as he could. In moments a pair of firefighters appeared. They wasted no time, one picking up Jonny and the other the remaining victim. The one with Jonny pulled a spare mask from his belt and shoved it into Hadji's hands before gripping his shoulder and steering him towards the stairs. Hadji did not resist, but he did take his own wetted turban and fling it over his brother's head to offer him what little protection he could.

The nightmarish trip down the flights of stairs seemed to take an eternity, but at last Hadji broke into the cool air, where his lungs became immediately determined to empty themselves. He did not resist as the pair of firefighters escorted him over to the waiting ambulances. Already Ngama sat on the cot in one, breathing oxygen through a mask and looking sooty and singed. Jessie stood outside it, her face torn with worry. Bandit was fighting to try to get to his person, prevented only by Jessie's full effort.

Hadji wanted to reassure her, but his voice came out a coughing croak and the paramedics instantly ordered him to silence while they started him on oxygen as well and began checking him for injuries alongside Ngama. But Hadji extricated a hand enough to grip Jessie's wrist and push her towards where Jonny was being loaded straight into an ambulance. She heard his unvoiced plea to go with Jonny to the hospital, to watch over him, to ensure the doctors were mindful of his sensitivities. She squeezed his hand once before darting off and clambering into the ambulance, ignoring or dismissing any possible arguments. Bandit almost went with her but for a quick lunge by Ngama who pinned the pup between himself and Hadji.

It looked like one of the paramedics was about to throw Jessie out of the ambulance by force when the sudden figure of Simon Banks appeared, striding quickly through the chaos.

"She's his family," he said to the paramedic, "and she'll be able to help with his medical history."

Either Simon's imposing form or his voice or simply his reputation convinced the crew and they crowded Jessie into a corner while they began working on Jonny, pulling the doors shut and driving off at speed. Simon watched them go before he turned to the ambulance that held the remaining Sentinel and Guide. With one swift glance he took in the burned appearance of the pair, their clear struggle to breathe, and the streaks of soot in Hadji's surprisingly long hair. He was caught between deep concern and fury.

What he settled for was, "You've only been alone in Cascade for _two days_! What am I supposed to tell Jim and Benton now?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some interesting cultural philosophy here. Which is apparently what I do when left with too many thoughts and not nearly enough people to talk to about them.
> 
> Oh, and glconstien? You're my hero. I'm gonna dedicate this chapter to you. Thanks.
> 
> Enjoy!

Jim rolled his shoulders as he assessed his opponent. Dmitri stood loosely, his arms almost relaxed at his sides. Jim knew that look – it was that of a man used to fighting hand-to-hand without any particular doubt in his abilities. In spite of himself, Jim smiled.

"Isn't somebody going to say go?" Race asked from behind.

"This is for none but those who seek to comprehend one another," Ivan said. There was a faint hitch in her voice and Jim turned automatically to her, noting as he did so that Dmitri stilled to look in concern as well. Ivan was leaning on Blair's arm a little heavily, her weight unsteady in the sand. Within moments, someone produced a camp chair and Blair eased her into it. Ivan smiled at the faces around her.

"Do not fear for me. Attend that which determines our fate."

Jim faced Dmitri again and they both felt a snap of anticipation before charging simultaneously. Only two or three blows into the exchange and Jim discovered two things about his opponent – Dmitri was trained military for sure, and Dmitri was in it to win.

On reflection, Jim knew he could have capitulated quickly, not throwing the match exactly, but not giving his all. He wanted to prove something, but he didn't need to win in order to do that.

But in the moment, facing another Sentinel, a Sentinel decades into his gifts and responsible for a tribe of dozens of other Sentinels, Jim couldn't have held back if he had wanted to. He was driven with a power he'd only felt a few times, the power that always echoed in his jaguar's eyes somewhere in the back of his mind. He _wanted_ this fight with a passion, and he would win it or go down trying.

Jim dodged an incoming punch and slammed an elbow into Dmitri's side, just glancing off a rib. Dmitri reacted by ducking behind Jim to attempt to knock him to the ground. Jim let Dmitri's momentum drop him, but he rolled at the last instant and kicked out, bringing Dmitri to the sand with him. He attempted a powerful horizontal heel-drop into his opponent's midsection but Dmitri caught his leg and twisted, sending Jim flopping awkwardly to keep from having his knee wrenched.

Jim shoved himself backwards and broke the hold on his ankle, getting to his feet. Across from him, Dmitri smiled. "Not bad for an American," he said with a dark respect.

"Just getting started," Jim answered him with a smile of his own. He settled into a more traditional boxing posture, and immediately Dmitri moved into a likewise stance.

After they punched and blocked for several minutes without either making particular headway, Jim had a flash of remembrance. Benton said these Sentinels, while trained from childhood, were forced to live in a system that made it harder for them to manage their senses without help or insulating surroundings. Jim might need Blair's help, but he didn't rely on it. It was an advantage. The jaguar in his mind almost purred in anticipation.

Accordingly, Jim began a steady campaign of using Dmitri's senses against him. A glancing blow might result in Jim scraping sand across his exposed skin. He worked to keep himself facing the beach, leaving Dmitri to battle while shielding his eyes from the sun dancing on the ocean. Nothing underhanded, not exactly. But he ensured that every instant he played against Dmitri's senses with the precision of a man whose own similar weaknesses were keen.

Dmitri managed a brilliant right-cross that smashed into Jim's nose, not quite breaking it but certainly causing it to bleed spectacularly. For a moment the scent and pain almost overwhelmed him, and then Jim could hear Blair, not actually speaking, but what he would have been saying any other time. Almost like he could hear Sandburg thinking: _Use it to overwhelm him instead_!

Jim never hesitated. He swiped at his nose with one fist while ducking under Dmitri's swinging left punch and getting up behind him. He caught the Russian in a hold and jammed his blood-covered hand right under Dmitri's nose even as he pulled the man's head back to force an ear against his chest. Dmitri fought for an instant, but the double stimuli of the scent and feel of blood against his mouth and the foreign pulse beating in his ear undid him.

Jim expected a zone. What he got instead was Dmitri dropping to the ground, curling into himself with a deep groan.

Then Blair and Ivan were both running, the former more lithely than the latter, but both with the same urgent purpose. Blair reached his Sentinel first, quickly offering a handkerchief that clearly smelled of Benton Quest to staunch the blood while he examined Jim for further injuries.

"I'm okay, Chief. Just some good bruises," Jim assured him.

"Nice work, man," Blair said, smiling, even as he didn't let up looking for other hurts. "I knew you could do it."

Beside them, Ivan crouched before the beaten Sentinel, speaking softly in Russian as she ran her hands over his head and back. It soothed him, but he did not uncurl and his shoulders began to tremble. After a few moments, Dominik approached with a thick blanket. Jim could tell that it was wired with a few tiny white noise generators in it. Ivan threw it over Dmitri's body and pinned it down, cutting off light and sound. Dominik helped her stand before taking her place to keep the tent pinned over the distressed Sentinel.

Ivan faced Jim with her chin up, the sand and spots of blood sticking to her knees and hands invisible in the face of her presence. "You have defeated our Sentinel. He and all who were his will defer to you."

Jim reached out to grab his Guide and pull Blair to his side, gripping the back of his neck possessively. "And what does that mean for me and Blair exactly?"

"Sentinels are not sheep and we maintain our own ways of determining our fate," Ivan said almost reprovingly, "but they will be more inclined to listen to your words and advice. What you have done, the way in which you used Dmitri's senses against him, this we have never been able to resist. Your command of your gifts is superior. My people will want similar training."

She looked at Blair, who tried not to appear as if he were being shielded by his much larger, paranoid Sentinel.

"You, young wolf, are a powerful companion for your Sentinel. Your strength is echoed in his control just as your wisdom is in his eyes. We who Guide do not defer to others who Guide, or to Sentinels, but those who have need of you will come to seek you. Of all my Sentinels, they have had only myself. They will now look to you also for peace from the pain as well as your strength and wisdom."

"Blair is _my_ Guide," Jim said tightly.

"Yes," Ivan affirmed. But then she turned away from the other Sentinels ranged on the beach. She stepped close to Jim and dropped her voice to less than a whisper, so much even Dominik a few paces away would have needed to extend his hearing to listen. " _Blair is yours, soul to soul. I Know this. But the connection is fragile where it should be strongest. You must prove it to yourself, or you will tear the both of you apart_."

-==OOO==-

Once cleared by the paramedics of immediate danger and the oxygen masks were removed, Hadji and Ngama wheedled their way out of the ambulance under the condition that Simon drove them directly to the hospital to be checked more thoroughly. Of course, "wheedled" wasn't the word either would have used – Ngama would have said "negotiated" and Hadji would suggest it was more "an act of reason and logic based upon a clear will and sensibility." Simon had a kid their age and knew better; he termed it wheedling.

"We should call your dad," he said as they pulled up to the Emergency Room parking lot. Simon was beginning to think he should have a reserved space for how much time he spent here dealing with prone-to-injury Sentinels and Guides. He glanced into the back-seat. "Both of your dads, maybe?"

Ngama shook his head. "I am unharmed, Captain Banks. My father will worry needlessly. Should my condition deteriorate, then perhaps. But for this, it would do more harm than good." He coughed a little unconvincingly.

"I think perhaps you will not agree," Hadji said softly, "but it was Jonny's wish not to disturb his father while on such an important mission. It is…it is not in me to betray that wish, not yet."

"But don't you want your dad to…?" Simon trailed off before he finished with, "you know. Be there for you?"

"The comfort of my family stands with me no matter their geography," Hadji said, a touch of his habitual serenity sounding in the words in spite of their smoke-roughened tone. He stroked Bandit's head steadily. "Where he is does not matter. Doctor Quest is 'there for me' from Russia or the bottom of the sea or the surface of the moon. The heart is not bounded by space and time."

Simon shrugged – there wasn't a whole lot to say to that. Instead, he climbed out of the car and led the two young men into the ER to be checked again, leaving the pup whining in the back-seat (Simon knew this hospital staff, even with the patience of the saints, would not put up with the wiggly canine). As they entered, they found Jessie pacing.

"Hadji! Are you okay? Don't you _ever_ do that again!" she leaped from concern to anger even as she threw her arms around him gratefully. "If you ever leave me to wait on the sidelines again just because I actually followed orders and called for backup…"

"I shall deserve your wrath, my friend," Hadji said ruefully. Then his gaze went over her shoulder. "How is he?"

"They put him on oxygen and they've started running tests. I kept them from giving him anything because of 'allergies,' but sooner or later they're going to start asking questions."

"No they won't," Simon said. He glanced at Ngama for just a moment, then shrugged. "I put in a call to Agent Howard Fritz as soon as Jessie hung up on me when I was on the way. A team will be by soon to airlift Jonny up to SELF and they'll bring in a medic we can trust."

His phone rang just as he finished these words. Jessie and Hadji looked up hopefully, but Simon shook his head as he answered the call. "It's Daryl. I left him in kind of a rush."

"Tell him whatever you need to," Jessie said decisively. As Simon edged away to reassure his son, she turned to the other two. "It seems to be a busy night around here, so we have some time before the doctors pull you two in for your exams. Hadji, call Agent Fritz and give him an update. He'll want to hear from you anyway."

"What will you be doing?"

Jessie tipped her head to Ngama. "Looks like I'm going to be explaining all about the Department of Homeland Security and the SELF location."

Within the hour, the DHS team arrived and quickly extricated Jonny from the doctors' care before Jessie and Simon had run out of ways to stall either medical treatment or having the hospital contact Jonny's legal guardians. Agent Fritz had not asked why Hadji requested he not inform Doctor Quest, mainly because he knew the Quests well enough to know which mysteries were not worth his aggravation. The helicopter was big enough to carry the DHS personnel and Jonny to SELF, but the others had to follow in Simon's car after Hadji and Ngama were released, with one quick stop to retrieve their basic supplies from the SELF house.

The medic was a military doctor, and what Maggie Mui lacked in knowledge about Sentinel physiology she made up for in experience with strange traumas. Hadji and Jessie and Simon and even Ngama shared everything they knew about Sentinels' medicine in general and Jonny in particular. Throughout the night, the doctor was able to establish that Jonny was largely uninjured except for a few burns, but the real damage was from the smoke and fumes. He was reacting as if he had been dosed with ten times the concentration of chemicals in the air. But the impact to his body was real, and the lack of a viable treatment was worrying.

"The problem," Doctor Mui explained in her quiet voice, "is that in normal cases we would administer a series of drugs that assist in pulling the heavy metals from a person's body. Jonny was exposed to mercury and arsenic poisoning as well as other compounds from his proximity to the burning computer parts. We have to purge those substances and quickly or there could be irreparable damage. But even dimercaptosuccinic acid which is used on children is too dangerous in his case."

"So you can cure him, but you could really hurt him if you do," Simon said. "But if you don't do anything…"

"I need to do _something_ ," Doctor Mui said. "I just don't know how well he'll recover from the side-effects of the cure."

Hadji, Jessie, and Ngama had been sitting near the bed in the infirmary, and with her words Hadji's head shot up. He grabbed for Ngama's shoulder.

"Your father! That tree sap!" he said with a rush of hope.

"You're right!" Ngama cried. He turned to the doctor. "My father has been working with a natural remedy used by my people for thousands of years. It is able to regenerate severe injuries and help the body recover from illnesses, and it does not harm Sentinels – I can attest to that personally. Already it is in its secondary drug trials, but it is safe to administer and it may rebuild whatever is destroyed by your cure."

"If he will bring some of it to us," Doctor Mui began to move towards the vials of medicines she had gathered before realizing she could not administer them, "I will work on the poisoning itself at once. I have no better ideas and I cannot wait much longer to clear the poisons from Jonny's system." She stopped with a syringe poised to put into Jonny's IV. "Hadji, I understand that in the absence of Doctor Quest and Race Bannon, you are the remaining person authorized to agree to treatment of your brother. Should I begin now, or should I wait?"

Hadji took a short breath and stood. "I know the dangers of the poisoning to which he has already been subjected. Please do what you can to save him from that. If we wait for a cure for the cure, we may be too late to treat the original ailment." But he looked to Simon as if for confirmation.

The captain put a hand on his shoulder. "It's triage, son. Do what you can with what you have. I think you're right on this one. There's only so much we can do, and I bet that tree sap won't help him much if he's still full of arsenic."

Hadji shook his head. He squeezed Jessie's hand as he nodded at Doctor Mui. "Please proceed."

"I'll call my father at once," Ngama said. "He owes you and Jonny a great deal as well, including my life. No matter our personal differences of opinion, I know he will send several doses as quickly as he can."

"I'll call Agent Fritz again," Jessie rose. "He might be able to arrange transportation."

"Good thinking," Simon approved. He looked down at Hadji and suppressed a shudder. Hadji couldn't be more than twenty years old, and he was the one left to make medical decisions for his adopted brother? Simon wasn't sure he'd even feel up to making such a decision for his own son.

As Jessie led Ngama out of the medical area to where they would get better reception, Simon drew Hadji backwards by the grip on his shoulder. "Come on. There's nothing you can do here right now."

"He's my Sentinel," Hadji protested. "I'm his Guide. I need to be with him."

_Oh lord preserve me from all this stuff_ , Simon moaned internally. Aloud he said, "That might be true, but you're in pretty terrible shape. At least go take a shower. You're not going to do him any good covered with the stuff yourself."

Hadji acquiesced much more easily than Simon knew Blair would have, and he was grateful that at least _somebody_ around here still listened to his perfectly good common sense. Once Hadji was out of the room, Simon looked to the doctor.

"Is there anything else we can do?"

"No," she answered, carefully measuring doses. "I'm going to keep him unconscious to give his body a chance to rest and to keep him from putting too much strain on his system by fighting with his senses. I'll be here to monitor him until we know, one way or another."

"All right," Simon nodded. "If you need something, I won't be far."

And he strode out of the room to find a quiet spot from which to make a phone call of his own.

"I let Hadji get out of telling his dad," he muttered to himself, typing in the complicated number that would route his call to a cell phone halfway across the world over the secure Quest network. "I didn't say anything about not telling Jim."

But the detective didn't answer. Instead, Simon was treated to Jim's voicemail. Apparently no one had ever left Jim a voicemail on the private Quest phone before, or he would have known it was Jonny who had recorded the outgoing message.

" _Hi there! You've reached the super secret phone of Jim Ellison. If you did not intend to call this number, please don't ever use it again. Oh, and we'll block your number as soon as we find you. If you meant to call Jim, clearly he's not answering for a good reason since he would definitely hear the phone ring otherwise. Please leave him a message. I don't know if he figured out how to get his messages yet, but I guess you'll find out! Later_!"

"Jim, it's Simon," he said, keeping his tone firm and unhurried. "Look, something happened and you should probably think about sending Doctor Quest and Race back here ASAP. Jonny got hurt. We're doing all we can, and we even called in Fritz. Call me as soon as you can, any time day or night. I…think Benton should know about this."

-==OOO==-

Blair glanced around. "Are you sure this is a good place to do this?"

Dominik smiled at him. His thin face seemed quite dour until his grin proved how bright it could be. "This hotel is government run. I gave an order and all outsiders fled rather than face the wrath of an angry colonel. Besides, it is an easy building to set up for our particular use."

"That is one good thing about being here," Race commented. "The civilians are fairly used to just going with whatever the military says. It helps – as long as your friends are military."

"Which we are," Ivan nodded. "Myself, perhaps not. But Dmitri is much revered as the fierce Colonel Barkov."

Dmitri himself was looking a little better, though his eyes were still wide and his face was tense. He'd sent Dominik, who turned out to be his lieutenant, with orders for the hotel staff to clear the entire back portion of the hotel and unlock the large ballroom before making themselves scarce and keeping any of the other tourists on the island away. Then Dominik had overseen a crew of Sentinels set up an elaborate series of white-noise generators, replace light-bulbs with those that were not so bright, and designate Sentinel-friendly safe rooms for retreat. The ballroom was fairly elegant in décor, but its style had been somewhat ruined by the crowd of Sentinels who grabbed chairs from their neat stacks and dragged them into a rough assembly deep amidst banks of white-noise machines that blocked out the rest of the world.

"So what now?" Jim asked, standing awkwardly. He wasn't altogether pleased with finding himself at the center of attention for the dozens of Sentinels around him. On the plus side, though, from the moment Dmitri had dropped in their fight, the odd wariness of being in the territory of another Sentinel had faded. From what Ivan had said, that was because these Sentinels now recognized Jim as one of themselves, so he was no longer an outsider. Jim wasn't so sure about that, but he was glad to be rid of the permanent feeling to keep Blair close and growl at everything that moved.

And Jim didn't miss that every single Sentinel was vastly more at ease surrounded by Sentinel-friendly technology, that they only relaxed when they were barred from any uncomfortable stimuli. Only that comparison told Jim how very different their coping mechanisms were from his own. _Thank god for Sandburg, or I wouldn't be able to leave the loft_.

"Now you will present what you wish us to consider," Ivan said, taking a chair between Dmitri and where Jim stood, Blair awkwardly at his side and trying not to be stared at.

"Well…" Jim floundered. He looked to Blair and Benton for help. Benton stepped up.

"I have created an organization that offers shelter and relocation to any Sentinel or Guide who wants it," Benton said. "I understand that all of you have worked as part of the military for most of your careers, but as your senses continue to refine themselves as you age, you are struggling more and more in the system that has housed you up until now. I would like to offer you an alternative. You can come with us to join SELF, and we will provide an environment in which you can discover more about your Sentinel nature and your capacity for control."

"Your senses are amazing," Blair jumped in. "But there's more you can do with them, and you shouldn't have to rely on a government to provide special housing or all these machines to dull all the noise for you, either. You can live your own lives like Jim does. You just need to learn how."

"And would _you_ be teaching us, Professor Guide?" Dmitri asked, only the barest twinkle in his dark eyes.

"Um, yeah," Blair nodded, coughing with a little embarrassment. "At least for a while. We'd also start trying to help find others who could be Guides so you wouldn't have to just depend on me and Ivanna."

"Even with their own Guides," Ivan spoke up, "you and I shall always be the primary Guides, just as Jim is a nominal leader of them as Sentinels. It is in their nature to give their loyalty and remember it. Just as it is in their nature to respect authority."

"But that's just what we can change," Benton said passionately. "You've lived your whole lives under a very strict hierarchy. We want to give you the freedom to find your own way and live independently, without having to defer to anyone. We'll make it comfortable, and if you want Jim as a leader that's fine, but you don't _need_ it. You just need to embrace your true potential as Sentinels."

Ivan frowned. "You may offer political freedom beyond what we already know, but you cannot change what we are."

"We don't want to change what you are," Blair said. "We just want to help with the senses. Help fix the training that made you dependent. When you have the kind of control and comfort Jim does, you can live wherever you want, in whatever system you want. We're just offering a way to get there. Like…consider it an offer for a place at a school. What you do after you graduate is up to you, but we want you to have the education that will help you. That's all."

Dmitri shook his head with a thoughtful expression. "Professor Guide indeed. You we believe. But it is harder for us to accept them," he looked at Benton and Race. "They are not one of us."

"Doctor Quest has put all his time and effort and money into making sure you could have this option," Jim said a little hotly. "He doesn't have to be a Sentinel or a Guide for him to be a good man trying to help."

"But we did not _ask_ for his help," Dmitri said, standing. "We did not ask for a hero to come to us to save us from our ignorance. We are not some poor, helpless people who will be amazed at the magic of your powers. We are strong. We have survived much. We did not ask for you to come and tell us that your ways are better and we must embrace them."

Race took a step forward looking like he wanted to fight, but Benton caught his arm. "Don't, Race. He's right. There is a certain…colonial superiority in our position."

"But we're not trying to go all _White Man's Burden_ on you," Blair protested. "Okay, we all know there are Sentinels who do need a rescue, but that's not because their ways are stupid – it's because they're locked up in breeding centers. So can we all agree that Sentinels who _don't_ have choices _do_ need some help?"

Ivan nodded. "We all have friends and family who have been lost to the chaos in their minds and were…reassigned. And we know what that means. If you intend to help them…"

"We do," Jim said staunchly. He stepped to the center of the crowd and looked out as his conviction grew firmer. "I've only ever known three other Sentinels," he told them. "I've never had a…community of people like me before. I'm new to all this."

"You're doing fine," Blair said in the barest whisper. Jim threw him a quick, grateful nod and continued with more confidence.

"Look, if you're good with what you've got, that's fine. This is an offer, and it's not just coming from Benton. If you woke up one day and won the lottery, you'd probably take that money and use it to help your families, right?"

People were nodding now.

"Well, Benton has reason to care about Sentinels, so he basically just gave me a winning ticket. And if you don't want to share in it, that's fine. Stay here. Protect the navy and the little city and this island and live behind a bank of white-noise generators and air filters. That's your call. Nobody has to give up their territory here."

Jim paused and took a breath. "But you do have a choice. You can come with us, come live in Cascade. There's a huge facility there that's been built for Sentinels. You'll get to learn all the stuff Sandburg taught me about control, all the tricks that give me an advantage and make me independent. And if you want to do that and come right back here afterwards, you can. Or you can stay in Cascade. Or you can go live on the moon for all I care."

"And if every person in this room says no?" Dmitri asked.

"Then we leave," Jim shrugged. "And we'll go find one of those places where Sentinels get sold or 'reassigned' or whatever you want to call it. And we'll give them the same choice. You've got it pretty good, but you all know you might not have it forever. This offer isn't a one-time deal. If you say no now, you can always join us in a year or ten years if you're the one on the reassignment list."

"Why are _you_ doing this?" Ivan looked at Benton. "Why do you come here and offer us riches at all?"

Benton glanced at Jim who gave him a nod. Benton laid his cards on the table. "My son has recently become a Sentinel," he said. "And when faced with the challenges of what that meant, I could not do nothing. When I learned the state of Sentinels throughout the world, I could not do nothing. I have the means and the will and the resources to make things happen. If it makes you feel better, I'm doing this as much for him as for my high ideals."

Benton's eyes went fiery. "I want to change things so that no government or terrorist group or anyone else ever has the ability to take away my son's freedom. I want Sentinels to be known in the West as well as they are in your military so he will have some protection. I want Sentinels to be understood in society so children born naturally like Jim will get the training they need without having to end up in the military or an asylum."

"I can help," Blair said earnestly. "And the more Sentinels that can function outside of the governmental systems, the closer we'll get to Sentinels being known and welcomed in the general population. We just need to fix a few things."

"Professor Guide," Dmitri said, and there was respect in his voice, "you know much of the science of senses – this is clear. You know the history of Sentinels and it seems you have stumbled upon some of the greatest truths of our people passed down these generations by those of us who listened to the stories as children. You may offer the ability to fix the training we endured and grant us more freedom, as you say. But you have yet to learn our spirits. You cannot fix what makes us Sentinels."

"I don't want to," Blair said. "I want you to be whatever you are. Just without having to sleep within military barracks and special rooms."

"Blair," Race said suddenly. "Stop thinking like a Guide for a minute. Think like an anthropologist."

The words brought him up short. Blair looked to Jim who shrugged, then to Benton who was nodding as understanding showed in his face. Blair turned to Ivan who sat watching him serenely. When he spoke, his voice was quiet as he worked through his thoughts.

"I…I think I hear what you mean. Being a Sentinel is genetic, but it's also cultural. I already guessed that Sentinels would tend to respect hierarchy and authority. It's kind of instinctive, I suppose. But…for you, you've lived your whole lives for generations _inside_ this system. _We're_ the outsiders. If we were from your country, your culture, we wouldn't be talking about freedom like this. We're making assumptions based on our own cultural bias. Oh man."

Blair's head came up and he looked around the room with a new passion. "Yours is a unique culture informed by the peoples that have fed it for generations, passed from the families who raised Sentinel children to you and onto whoever commanded Sentinels or worked with them as teachers and trainers and even your non-Sentinel military allies. Your natural instincts aren't being suppressed – you just exercise them differently than I expected. And now I come in and tell you that everything you've ever done or lived or taught others is wrong. Oh man. I broke the cardinal rule of anthropology. I forgot to check my bias at the door. I'm sorry."

"We are a brotherhood," Dmitri said, stepping to Blair and putting a hand on his shoulder. "We that you see here are those who survived as children, who were loyal to our units, who protected our men and women with all our skills. We have been brought here because we may no longer be able to do that. What you offer is a great temptation, because what we want is to return to the people that we consider our own, but also a great risk. Because if we defect now, we will never return to our own soldiers who even now serve without us to guard them."

"I understand," Jim said suddenly. "I was a soldier too. I understand."

"And yet," Dominik spoke softly, "our own soldiers would wish us to become all that is within our potential. They might even forgive us defection if it earned us greater strength and control. Those we guarded for so long only ever wanted the best for us."

Many heads in the crowd nodded at that.

"So why don't we start this offer over?" Blair said. "Hi. I'm Blair Sandburg. Jim is my Sentinel, and we learned a lot of things about his senses by accident and because of our unique situation. We'd like to share this knowledge with you. The easiest thing would be for you to come with us to a great place we know in Cascade, but if you can't do that, we understand."

"We are not here to save you," Benton said. "You don't need saving. If you don't want what we have to share, we won't bother you again. We would at least like to part friends and allies."

"Oh, we would like to hear about your new ways and receive your wisdom," Dmitri said with a wry smile. "It does not take the great Doctor Quest to know that we have been trained like well-kept dogs who rely upon our masters. But if we are dogs, we are proud dogs and we do not need to be pat on the head like puppies."

"No head patting," Race deadpanned. "Got it."

Half the crowd hid snickers – and a few did not bother.

"I have a question," Ivan said. She stood and faced Jim squarely. "After you leave here with our decision, do you intend to do as you say and offer this freedom to our brothers and sisters who are less free than we? Those who have been sold and have lost their ability to choose?"

"Yes," Jim nodded.

Ivan smiled and turned back to the room where many faces were beginning to look hopeful, even excited. "We have much to discuss."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting to share the last scene of this chapter with you for AGES.
> 
> Enjoy!

Jessie, Ngama, and Simon stood out in front of the lodge.

"Did he say who was bringing it?" Simon asked.

"No, and I did not ask," Ngama shook his head. "But it would be someone my father trusts. He would not hand his life's work to even an agent of your government."

"I still don't get why Doctor Zimbati didn't come himself?" Jessie asked. "He's friends with Doctor Quest, isn't he?"

"Yes, for now I believe that is true," Ngama acknowledged, and Simon caught the steel under the calm exterior. Simon might not be a Sentinel, but he was an astute judge of people and he knew repressed anger when he saw it, even in such a collected young man.

"I'm sure your father would be here if he could be," Simon said carefully.

Ngama shook his head. "My father is a good man, Captain Banks. I trust he means well. But he and I disagree fundamentally about what it means to be a Sentinel. He wishes to help Jonny because, among other things, he owes him a debt. But he does not want to face the possibility that my Sentinel senses are not what he has believed. He is a very stubborn man."

Simon felt a pang. Ngama was wise and patient and intelligent and loyal – these things were clear. How could any father not be grateful to have such a son? And even more, how could any father be so caught up in his own beliefs that he could not acknowledge a truth that was actually better, healthier, more positive for his son? Simon thought of Daryl and promised himself not to be so narrow-minded.

But he only said, "I'm glad for whatever help he can offer," and he put a hand on Ngama's shoulder. The way the kid leaned into Simon's touch told him more than any words.

Jessie was as still and calm as she'd been through all of this, but she did glance around a little awkwardly. Simon couldn't blame her. From what he understood, she and Jonny and Hadji had been practically joined at the hip for years. When there was trouble, they had always turned to one another. But now Hadji was inside sitting with his Sentinel and trying to talk him through a dangerous and debilitating cure for an even more dangerous condition. Even if Jonny wasn't awake, Hadji had been speaking to him softly and coaxingly for the last several hours while they waited. Clearly Jessie wanted her boys back at her side. Bandit was whining regularly at her feet as if to emphasize the point.

"I hear it," Ngama said suddenly, and Simon and Jessie looked up hopefully. It was a handful of minutes, though, before the small government car emerged from the woods and stopped before the lodge. Agent Fritz had sent one of the DHS guards to the military airstrip to pick up whoever was delivering Doctor Zimbati's materials, and as soon as the door opened and the courier scooted out, the agent disappeared.

Jessie blinked. "It's you!"

Simon had expected…well, he wasn't sure what he had expected. Not a girl no older than Daryl with an electric blue streak of color in her dark hair though. She was petite, her skin the warm golden brown of a native Hawaiian, and her round face split with an impish smile at Jessie's surprise.

"Nice to see you, too. I know I'm not the obvious courier here, but mom didn't want to trust anybody else, and even if I don't know Jonny, he was her patient, so she's all kinds of protective. But she can't get away or lose months of work, so I'm the next best thing," the girl answered brightly. She held out a box the size of a small suitcase marked with medical symbols. "Doctor Zimbati included instructions as well as several doses and he talked me through it too."

Simon frowned at the girl. Before he could say anything, though, Ngama took a step forward.

"Thank you. I am Ngama. I appreciate your willingness to deliver this for my father."

"Nice to meet you," she replied. "My name's Kaimi. My mom is Doctor Waihee." She frowned slightly for a moment. "I...get the feeling things with your dad are a little complicated. He, uh, he didn't really..."

"Do not let it trouble you," Ngama assured her, putting a hand on her shoulder gently. "What he and I have to resolve will come in its own time. But I did not know that you..."

"Me, neither," Kaimi shrugged, but her eyes never left Ngama's. "It was mom's idea."

"Who is this Doctor Waihee anyway?" Simon wanted to know.

"We met her when we stopped in Hawaii on our way back from Borneo," Jessie explained, taking the box and leading the way into the lodge and down to the medical area below-ground. "Doctor Waihee helped us when Jonny got sick the first time." She frowned suddenly. "But you never told us she was your mom when we were there."

"You never asked," Kaimi smiled a little as she fell in alongside Ngama. "Besides, I was just looking after the dorm for the summer. It's not like we got to know each other."

"So you know what to do with whatever's in there?" Simon asked, bringing up the rear of the procession and using his greater height to keep an eye on the three kids before him.

"Enough," Kaimi said. "I'm not a doctor. I'm going for psychology when I enroll. But I've lived with mom long enough to know about remedies like this one, so it should be pretty straightforward."

"Kaimi," Jessie paused at the door, "the thing about Jonny…"

"Don't tell me," she interrupted, holding up her hands. "I already got this lecture from mom. Doctor Quest showed up out of the blue with his son that sick? And then whisks him away just as fast after a few really interesting brain scans? And then I get a ride on a military plane in a car with windows so dark I couldn't see anything all the way here? No," she shook her head. "This is something big and at this point I don't need to know. It's okay. I get it."

"You seem to be very comfortable with this situation," Ngama commented, looking sideways at her.

Kaimi shrugged. "If there's one thing I've learned from my mom, it's that the patient always comes first. In this case, that patient is Jonny, and whatever's wrong with him is wrapped up in a whole bunch of secrecy. I'm not going to do him or anybody else any good by getting in the middle of that. Besides," she smiled at Ngama, "I can tell that whatever it is, it's nothing I should be worried about."

"How do you know that?" Jessie asked.

"I get a feeling about people sometimes. And you guys? You're good people."

-==OOO==-

Hadji's first thought was that his neck ached.

"Come on, Hadj. That _can't_ be good for your back."

"I am dreaming," Hadji thought he said aloud. "I know I must be, for there is no other explanation."

"Going to have to open your mind a bit, then."

Hadji straightened up from where he realized he had made a pillow of sorts for his head on Jonny's bed. As he moved, the chair in which he had been for most of the last day slid backwards and he almost toppled but for a familiar and steady grip that caught his shoulders and kept him from overbalancing and slamming into the ground. Hadji looked up into Jonny's eyes.

"My friend." It came out a whisper. He took a breath and tried again. "Jonny, you are awake."

"You noticed that and you're not even a Sentinel!" Jonny teased gently. He smiled. "Yeah. I've been awake long enough for whoever that doctor was to declare me a miracle of medical science and go running to tell somebody. Howitzer, I hope?"

Hadji nodded. "Yes. Doctor Mui came in when we contacted Agent Fritz to help extricate you from the Cascade hospital that was not prepared to deal with your…unique physiology." Then he cringed. "I should have been awake for you when you recovered."

"You were awake when it mattered," Jonny said softly. Hadji tipped his head curiously.

"I do not know what you mean."

"I heard you," Jonny said. "I heard you for what felt like forever when I was kind of floating in the dark. You told me all about what had happened, what the doctor was doing to help, even about getting that sap from Ngama's dad to try to fix the damage from the drugs. I heard all of it."

"Remarkable," Hadji said. "I am not sure there has ever been such a well-documented case of unconscious awareness before." Then he looked more critically at his brother. "And how do you feel now?"

"Fine, actually," Jonny said. "Doctor Mui? She said that I should have been dealing with the poisoning for a lot longer. A _lot_ longer. But something about my weird Sentinel body looks like it purged that stuff a lot faster than normal. And whatever that tree sap Doctor Zimbati sent does, it did it in overdrive, too. She wants to run a few more tests, but she basically gave me a clean bill of health! We have _got_ to get a stash of that stuff!"

Hadji grinned brilliantly, his joy unrestrained as it almost never was. Impulsively, he threw his arms around Jonny and hugged him for a moment. When he spoke, it was with reverence. "I am so glad, Jonny Quest. I am so glad you are all right."

Jonny stiffened almost imperceptibly in his arms, and Hadji drew back in surprise. "Jonny?"

"I _am_ fine," Jonny said stubbornly.

Hadji frowned. "But…?"

His brother sighed. "But…I think my senses are completely turned off and I don't know how to turn them back on."

-==OOO==-

"Okay, people. I'm only going to say this once," Simon said firmly. He glanced around the bullpen until he had every eye. "Our little arsonist has really upped his game. He could have killed a number of people in that computer building on campus, including some friends of mine, and we're all lucky there weren't worse injuries. We're going to nail this guy before he hurts anybody else."

Around the bullpen people were nodding. Daryl sat solemnly in the chair beside Rhonda's desk – he had watched the news coverage of the fire at Rainier from two nights ago, and had seen Jonny and Hadji pulled out covered with soot. It made his chest hurt with some mix of anger and fear, and more than ever he understood why his dad was a cop. Daryl wanted to fight back, to protect his friends.

"Taggart, you're taking the lead on this," Simon said. "Ellison and Sandburg are still out on private business. Rafe, Brown, whatever you've got open right now, hand it to Rhonda and she'll reassign it. I want the three of you to find this guy before he strikes again. Where are we on that?"

To Daryl's surprise, his father was turning to him. He coughed once before he straightened up. "Um, well, you know about the computer program Jonny and Jessie and Hadji set up for us, right?"

"Yes," his father nodded, urging him on.

"Right. Well, it finished running over the weekend. And there's a lot in it and it found a lot of things, amazing stuff I didn't know any computer could do!" Daryl caught himself and forced himself to slow down, "I came in yesterday and added the university fire to the variables."

"You came in on a Sunday?" Joel asked, surprised.

Daryl nodded. "Yeah! Of course I did!" He didn't dare look at anyone's face, but from the nodding he could see in his peripheral vision, he was encouraged – they understood how it was personal to him now. "But, anyway, it identified the most probable neighborhoods the perpetrator might be going to and from based on the times of each fire, the bus route, and the probabilities and demographics of the people who ride the bus at different times of day."

"Good work," Simon approved with a real smile. "Print out whatever you've got and hand it around. Taggart, the mayor is pissed, and Rainier University is furious. Most of the people who were in the building are awake and coherent, so we need to see if they saw anything. We've also been given a basic psych profile to work with. Put as many uniforms on the street as you need and start to canvass the area. Maybe somebody knows who has cause to be that mad at a college computer science building."

He paused and then took a breath. "I probably don't need to remind you that arsonists like this tend to escalate. We've gone from a small blast at a coffee shop to half a department store to an entire building, and that last one had people in it. We need to find this guy and stop him _now_ before we're picking bodies out of the ashes. Get going."

Simon strode to go back into his office – he had some calls to make, mostly to reassure people that his team would end things before they got to that point.

"Captain, a minute?" Joel asked. He didn't even wait for the okay, just followed Simon into the office and shut the door.

"What's up, Joel?"

"Where are Jim and Blair?" Joel asked bluntly.

"I can't tell you that," Simon deferred.

"Don't give me that," Joel crossed his arms before his chest. "Things haven't been normal since, hell, since the kid went into that fountain."

Simon cringed at the memory of Blair, dead and drowned, and then somehow alive again.

" _Something_ is going on. I'm a detective, Simon. I can read between some of the lines here. I know what was on the news about Blair's dissertation. And then this business with a Foundation run by Benton Quest. And now the Department of Homeland Security? And Jim and Blair…"

"Jim and Blair what, captain?" Simon asked sharply.

Joel looked like he was going to say something, but he suddenly let out all his air and backed down. "They should trust us," he said finally. "And you should, too."

Simon sighed. "Joel, I give you my word – I would if it were mine to tell. Frankly, I think you'd be better at dealing with this stuff than I am. But for now, I can't break a confidence like that."

"I understand, sir," Joel said softly. "Just…tell them that for me, will you?"

"Sure," Simon nodded. As Joel turned to go, he called him back. "And Taggart?"

"Yeah?"

"Whatever you're thinking, it's a lot bigger than that. Thanks for not pushing the issue with anyone."

Joel nodded and continued back to the bullpen where he began giving orders. Behind him, Daryl peeked in the door.

"Dad?"

"Come on in," Simon invited, privately glad to put off his phone calls a few more minutes. As Daryl sat down, he said, "You did good out there, son."

"Thanks, dad." Daryl knit and unknit his fingers together a few times before he asked, "Is everybody okay? Is Jonny okay?"

"Yes," Simon nodded. "I made sure of that. I stayed an extra night just in case they weren't being straight with me, but it looks like everything's going to be fine."

"Who was that girl?"

_Kid's too perceptive for his own good_ , Simon thought to himself. He'd offered to give Kaimi a ride to the airport for her early morning flight back to Maui once it was clear the sap was working, and he'd only paused at the house long enough to grab a clean shirt to change into at the station. He'd idled the car in the driveway, but apparently Daryl had seen them.

"Her mom's a doctor," Simon answered honestly. "She sent something to help Jonny. Something new. Kind of experimental."

Daryl nodded. "Because the normal treatments wouldn't work for Jonny, would they?"

Simon sat up a little straighter. "Why do you say that?"

" _Dad_ ," his son said exasperatedly. "I'm not stupid. Joel's not the only person who is noticing something weird going on here."

"Well, go talk to him about it then," Simon grumbled. He regretted it at once. "Sorry, son. But, Daryl, you have to understand, there are things I can't tell you."

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that," Daryl nodded. "Don't worry about it." He rose. "Do you know when Jonny and Jessie and Hadji and Ngama will be back? Today maybe?"

"Probably a few days," Simon answered. "They wanted a little more time on their own."

"Okay," Daryl said cheerfully. "I better get back to work."

"Yeah, you do that." Simon waited until Daryl had closed the door before groaning.

_Great. Now I've got two of them. I pity any Sentinel who tries to avoid their questions this time around!_

-==OOO==-

The jungle was burning.

Jim watched, horrified, as flames tore trees apart, ripped through the underbrush, brought the proud, silent forest to ashes. Before the wave of fire, animals fled in terror, crying out in their pain. A few seemed familiar, but every time he tried to look more closely the fire rose up and hid them even from his Sentinel sight.

"Blair!" he shouted. "Sandburg! Where are you?"

"He is not here," came a familiar voice. Jim turned to see Incacha watching him solemnly.

"Why? What's going on?"

"Still you deny your Guide, and still you block from him his own role. For as long as you stifle his powers, you alone will dream, and you are not the one meant to understand."

"What do you mean I'm denying my Guide?" Jim asked. "I've acknowledged him. He even sees the spirit animals now, better than I do."

"You must open the door of your mind to him," Incacha said. "You must allow him to draw you beyond the sixth step. Only then will he reach the Seventh Door."

"Sixth step? Seventh Door? What does that mean?" Jim demanded.

"It will be too late if you wait to release your Guide to his destiny for him to receive that which he should already Know. So I give his message to you. Enqueri, your tribe needs you or this will be their fate." He gestured at the fire. "Open yourself to your Guide and grant him his strength. And protect your people, Sentinel. Or they will die."

Jim sat up gasping for air. He blinked at the brightness of the room. How could he have slept so late? He opened his hearing and immediately found his partner, apparently already awake and talking earnestly with what sounded like most of the local Sentinels; from the sounds of it, Blair had turned down the white-noise machines a lot. _I wonder if they can handle it yet. But with Blair down there, they'll at least give it a try_. His eyes moved to the door and he spotted a note slipped underneath it into his room. He didn't even need to get out of bed to read it.

" _Went downstairs to talk shop. You were really out of it! I figure you needed the sleep. Come on down whenever you're ready. Blair. PS: Did you see your phone message light blinking? I think that means you should check it sometime, big guy._ "

Jim snorted and climbed out of bed, finding a tray that had been brought in along with some vaguely warm coffee. He really must have been asleep to not have noticed anything.

But that dream...

Jim forced it to the back of his mind with the ease of much practice. He might have decided ignoring dreams like that wasn't a good idea, but he was in no hurry to try interpreting it. Dreams where he got scolded by Incacha never seemed to end well.

As Jim ate and readied for the day, he became increasingly aware of the conversation his Guide was having downstairs. Already he was neck-deep in talking through Sentinel senses, and if that faint scratching noise was anything to go by, at least four people were taking notes.

" _So, Sentinel Ellison does not need you to keep him grounded by touch_?" a male voice asked.

" _No_ ," Blair answered. " _It helps sometimes, don't get me wrong, but if I'm not there he can handle it just fine_."

There was a murmur of surprise, and from the comments Jim assumed that meant these Sentinels had been trained to depend on at least one person physically anchoring them to keep them from a zone. And Sandburg was right – it _was_ easier to avoid zoning with his Guide's hand on his shoulder or arm, but it wasn't necessary. It just...felt right.

" _Let's try an example_ ," Blair was saying, and there was some shuffling as he urged a Sentinel to her feet and began taking her through an exercise.

Jim was tying his shoes when he realized that he was starting to feel that powerful, burning protective, almost possessive feeling he tended to associate with bad incursions on his territory. He could almost hear Blair telling him to stretch out and figure out what he was subconsciously picking up that was troubling him. He listened more closely and finally caught a whispered conversation in another corridor, apparently where two Sentinels were standing guard over the ballroom at a distance.

" _He says Professor Guide is his Guide_ ," one said to the other, " _but he treats him like a conscript_."

" _Ivan says they are joined, but the bond feels weak to me. She says they have the potential to bond even beyond what she did with Commander Ilja. She says it is because Sentinel Ellison does not know if he truly wants his Guide in his soul_."

" _Well, if he does not, I hope he releases him. Professor Guide is one I could happily give my own soul to if he would take it_."

Jim's vision whited out on the rest of the conversation and he found himself charging downstairs in a state near to a rampaging bull. He unerringly found his way to the ballroom, and if the other Sentinels, not to mention Benton and Race, were alarmed at his crashing entrance and dire expression, they opted to stay out of his way rather than confront him.

But when he stood before Blair, Jim's burning anger seemed to vanish. Instead, he wanted to take back the dramatic entrance and pretend nothing had happened. No such luck.

"Jim, what's going on? Are you okay?" Blair asked, stopping in mid-sentence and looking to his friend.

"I'm fine," he answered shortly. Then, because he had to say something, he elaborated, "I had a dream and I think I should tell you about it."

"Oh. Okay. Can it wait?" Blair asked, gesturing to the assembled Sentinels.

"No, it can't," Jim said decisively. An instinct he could not ignore boiled in his gut and asserted itself. "Come on." He actually grabbed Blair's elbow and began heading back to his room, virtually ignoring the surprise of his audience as well as his Guide.

"Man, this must be serious," Blair commented as he was half-pulled up a few flights of stairs.

Suddenly Jim felt foolish again. Like hot and cold, once more the urge to pull his Guide away from those other Sentinels and...do something...he didn't really know what...had ended. Now he was standing at the threshold to his room, his Guide looking very concerned at his side, and he had no idea what to do next.

"Maybe...I don't know," he said awkwardly. "Maybe it's nothing."

"No way, man. Not with that stunt you just pulled. So spill. What did you dream?"

Jim turned to go into his room. "Never mind. We can talk about it later or something. Sorry I yanked you away from your lesson down there."

"Man, _what is going on with you_?" Blair practically slammed the door shut behind him as he stalked into the room after Jim. "Honestly, I thought we'd put this whole routine behind us!"

"It's not..." Jim began, but he ran out of things he was willing to say and fell silent.

"No way, Jim," Blair shook his head. "No, you promised. You _promised_ me you wouldn't shut me out of the Sentinel stuff anymore! If something's going on, you need to tell me about it! Are you having trouble being around all these Sentinels? Is it a thing like with Alex again, because Ivan did say..."

"This isn't that!" Jim denied sharply. Even as he said it, he was starting to understand some of what Incacha had meant in the dream. Some of what he was still holding back. And he still wanted to hold it back, thank you very much. It was one thing to acknowledge that he might be possessed of strong, throwback instincts and emotions – it was another entirely to face and accept and admit to them.

"Oh, there some _other_ big pressing engagement I missed while we're out here?" Blair crossed his arms. "Because unless you've suddenly developed an allergy to sterile hotels, I think you're out of excuses!"

"Stop! Just stop it!" Jim squeezed his hands into fists – it was either that or cover his ears like a child.

"Stop _what_ , Jim?" Blair's anger abated at his partner's clear distress. "Jim, buddy, talk to me!"

Jim turned away to where he could see out the window to the still, blue-green sea. He swallowed thickly to fight the urge to shout something designed to get Sandburg angry and hurt and, therefore, less likely to pry and more likely to leave. It was his default reaction, but this time he just couldn't stomach the idea of it. Not when there was a roomful of other Sentinels downstairs, and even if he was connected to Blair, the idea that that bond could be broken and Blair could go elsewhere – _no_. Just _no_. But the truth...that wasn't a whole lot better. He needed another way.

"It's like..." he began slowly, "it's like when I got my '69 truck."

Blair actually twitched in confusion sharply enough that Jim could hear it without Sentinel senses. "It's _what_?"

"Shut up and listen," Jim snapped. "You want to hear this?"

"Yeah, I really do," Blair answered softly.

"So, it's like when I got my truck," Jim said again, not looking away from the sea. "It was...perfect. I mean, you can read all the books you want, you can test drive all the cars in the world, but there's only one car that you find that really, you know, clicks with you. And it's not about what it looks like on the outside or whether it's the newest model."

"O...kay," Blair said hesitantly. "Trucks. I can do that." He thought for a moment. "So, why don't you tell me why you did pick your truck, then?"

Jim felt himself smile a bit with relief. "It had all the basics right, the engine, the brakes, the shocks. You know, the stuff that gets broken or worn down if it isn't cared for. But lots of trucks had that. There was something...comfortable about it, about the way it fit me. It wasn't brand new, it had seen something of the road, so all the stiff parts had been worked loose and I wouldn't have to feel too bad if I got a new scratch on it." He stopped. "But I _never_ wanted to scratch it."

"Jim, are you still talking about a truck?" Blair asked. His question was ignored.

"When I brought that truck home, do you remember what I did next?"

"Before or after you forbade me from ever driving it?" Blair asked wryly.

"After," Jim said with a snort.

"You washed it, man. Scrubbed it until even all the dirt _you_ can see was gone."

"It was more than that," Jim said. He didn't turn around, didn't let himself think as the words poured out. "I...got used to it. I felt every inch, got myself acquainted with every dent and imperfection. You'd probably say I imprinted it or something. I made it so I'd know that truck blindfolded and numb from the neck down. I got comfortable with the truck inside and out, so there wasn't a square inch I wouldn't recognize."

He looked over his shoulder without actually moving to face his partner. "Have you ever noticed that I've never zoned while I was driving, no matter how late at night or how boring the drive?"

"I guess," Blair shrugged. "I never really thought about it, though."

"When I'm driving that truck, I'm completely aware of it. I'm listening to every single piece move, to every part of the engine. I can feel the road almost like I was touching it with my hands because I know the difference in how it feels under the tires. I'm watching the gauges, every hair twitch of them. The mechanics hate me because I make them calibrate them to a ridiculously high precision. But it matters because I can tell the difference. When I'm driving, the line between me and the truck is practically gone."

"Um, I'm hearing the words, but I'm still not getting the meaning here, big guy," Blair admitted when Jim fell silent for a few moments. "Usually I'm pretty good at Cryptic Jim Speak, but I'm gonna need a translation this time."

Jim took a long breath as he tried to let the truth make its way past his inner wall of silence.

"I love that truck, and it's easy because that truck is wholly mine in every possible way. I want a lot more out of my truck than normal people because I can do more with it. In a world of a thousand identical trucks, I'd still want that one because to me, it's different. And nobody else could ever understand it the way I do, could handle it the way I do. It's my truck and it fits me in a way I know it wouldn't fit anybody else."

The Sentinel was hyper aware of Blair behind him, of his heart-rate, a little elevated. Of his breathing, a little deliberately slow. He could even hear the twitch in Sandburg's jaw where he opened his mouth to say something, then gulped and stopped.

Jim forced himself to turn and face him. "You're a lot...a _lot_ more important to me than the truck, Chief. And...I need you a lot more than I could ever need it, too."

Jim was braced for Blair to make a joke or try to dodge, but he didn't. "I'm here, Jim," he said simply, looking steadily into his eyes without a hitch of discomfort.

"No, it's..." he wanted so badly to turn away, but he couldn't. Not this time. "I don't know how to explain it. It's..." _Incacha says I'm holding you back. And maybe I am. Maybe I still don't want to dive all the way into those deep waters with you. But I'd rather gut myself on a spork than let you go to anybody else and I don't understand it. I don't get it, and I don't like that I don't get it. Why can't it be easy? Why does it have to be so big?_

"Jim," Blair said his name low and gentle. "I trust you, man. Whatever it is, it's okay. I'm here."

Something in Jim Ellison's chest broke loose and seemed to seize him in an urgent grip at Blair's acceptance, even welcome. In two strides he was across the space between them. Blair was watching him carefully, closely, but he never shied away, never flinched, not even when Jim's hands came up to his face.

Jim had touched Blair's face before. He'd checked him for injuries often enough, that was for sure. He'd smacked him once or twice when he needed to get Blair all the way back to consciousness, and he'd feigned striking him, too, patting him in jest. He'd grabbed him to hold him under his arm for a well-deserved head-scruff. And he'd touched him one hideous day when Blair's skin had been blue and cold and lifeless, had stroked the planes of his face with a final plea to return. This wasn't like any of those moments.

Jim's hands settled along Blair's jaw. His left hand he curled there, fingers brushing the throat and feeling as though they were pulsing along with the heart that beat firmly beneath the skin. The right hand he moved slowly, aware of every pore, every line, every fine hair as he slid upwards along the cheek. His thumb found Blair's nose and ran up along the bridge, the pads of his fingers framing his eye, just touching his hairline at his temple. He followed the edge of the forehead up and into the center until he could press his palm flat, his thumb tracing an eyebrow while his fingers disappeared into the long, soft strands of hair.

Something like a tremor went through Jim. He could no more stop himself than he could quit breathing. He curled his left hand around behind Blair's neck to the base of his head, burying his right hand in the curls at the crown. His eyes drifted closed and he let himself tip forward as his hands and arms gathered the Guide, _his_ Guide, to him.

Jim pressed his forehead to Blair's, the very tips of their noses touching.

"Jim?" Blair whispered, Sentinel-soft.

But Jim couldn't answer him. His heart was pounding and he thought he might shudder until his bones broke apart. He wanted the floor to open up under him, swallowing them both whole. He wanted the world to disappear and leave him alone forever – just let this instant last for all time and he would be content. If the door to this room vanished, if the room vanished, if there was nothing, just his forehead and his hands and that tip of his nose and the breathing and heart-beat sounding in his ears – he would be happy.

And then there was warmth on his chest. Blair's hand. Not pushing him away, not hesitant, not a rejection. Blair's fingertips trailed over the muscles of his chest until they found his heart, where it pounded with a strange energy; there, he spread his hand and let his palm rest against that driving pulse.

It was too much. There couldn't be _this much_ , could there? Jim was caught in a maelstrom of his whole life crystallized in that single moment. How could he simultaneously be hearing every broken promise, every painful sob, every silent, sullen acceptance of his childhood, every scream of the dying, every bark of a gun taking a life, every death rattle? How loud was a jaguar's roar? How loud a wolf's howl? And then above it, or around it, or maybe inside it, there were the joyful things – the laughter of children, the moments when he was happy, the pride of his commanders and his soldiers, the nights around a campfire with Simon, the camaraderie of the bullpen. And Blair. Always Blair.

Jim had experienced the whole life-flashes-before-your-eyes thing before. That was _nothing_ compared to this. This wasn't a sequence of events – this was the total sum of everything that had ever mattered materializing in one single instant, all at full volume, full color, full intensity. Time compressed until _everything_ was Here, _everything_ was Now.

And it all played in harmony, a perfect counterpoint, to the touch of that hand on his chest, that forehead against his own.

_This_ , Jim thought or maybe said or shouted or sang, _of my whole life, this is the only thing that was ever real, that ever mattered. This is what I am_ _for_.

It hurt. It _ached_. And somehow Jim was not surprised to find that love's true nature was a joy so deep it could only be understood the same way pain was understood – immediate, irrespective of thought or will, like fire in the nerves that could wrench a sob or a cry because there was no other way to interpret it.

And even as he feared it... _I want this so badly, and I can't believe it. I can't even name it. I just want it. I'll do anything for it_.

"Me too, Jim."

Blair's voice was so low it was almost subvocal, but Jim heard it. He couldn't bear to open his eyes, couldn't bear to move. He could barely stand to speak, but he couldn't help that, either. He couldn't not answer this person, this person above all others.

"You what, Chief?"

"All of it, Jim. All of it. Me, too."

Those words filled him even more, but he had to ask, he had to be sure. "I don't know what this means. I don't know how... What if...?" He stopped, no longer even knowing what he was asking.

"It doesn't matter," Blair breathed back. "It just _is_. Don't try to control something that can't be controlled. Just let it be." Then, with a little more strength, "Come with me, Jim."

He never needed to ask. "Anywhere."

Their connection frizzled and then blew wide open. And suddenly Jim was spiraling, lost in blue light and an echo of water.

The jaguar was roaring and running and leaping. The wolf was barking and sprinting and soaring. Again and again, they flowed into one another. Again and again, they two became one. Again and again, they joined in a flash of light. Of _life_. Delicate as a newly-opened flower, miraculous as a star, inevitable as gravity, eternal as time, vast as all creation.

And every time it happened, Jim knew with absolute, irrevocable certainty that everything he felt, everything that he wanted – it was shared in equal measure by Blair.

_This_ was what Incacha had meant. _This_ was the connection that Jim had avoided, and at last embraced, and even now he could feel something like a door opening in his mind – or maybe it was Blair's because who could tell? – and a last piece of them both settling into place.

"I think," Blair's voice was all around him, or maybe he was all around it, "we finally made it from those shallower waters to the ocean."

"Those waters were nice before, like you said," Jim returned with a quiet sort of ecstasy. "Now they're..."

"I know, man. I'm right here with you."

"Were you always here?"

"Yeah, I think so. And so were you, Jim."

"That's true." And Jim knew it was. "I'll always be here. With you."

Here in this moment. Here in the connection that brought one back from death and breathed life into both. Here in a feeling so vast no planet, no galaxy should be big enough to contain it, let alone one frail human chest, or even two. Here where fear could never tread because fear was just pain in advance and there was no pain in this. Here in the heart of wholeness. Here in the light of forever. Here in the meaning of love.

Jim didn't want to leave.

"You don't have to," Blair's words were gentle. "Because you never will."

"Never," Jim affirmed fiercely. "Never."

And the light faded, the jaguar and wolf slid back to shadows and shifting hues of blue, and the broadness of the inexpressible slid back to something more believable. Back to where Jim still had his fingers tangled in Blair's hair and Blair had a hand on his chest and they were still pressed together at the forehead with their noses just barely touching and Jim's arms were shaking.

Jim didn't know how to move. But Blair did.

Blair slid forward slowly, allowing Jim's nose to follow the contour of his nose and forehead until it was buried in the crown of his head and Blair's face was pressed to Jim's chest, his arms wound around his back. Jim's arms tightened to hold him, and for one dizzying moment Blair couldn't quite tell whose body was whose, whether he was the one resting his face on the top of a beloved head or if it was against a steady heart, which arms held him and which were his with which to hold.

"I love you, Jim," he said because he couldn't not say it. He could not stand here and not say aloud those words with that echoing feeling inside. And he knew even as he said it that Jim might not say it back, and that was fine, and he knew Jim knew it was fine if he didn't say it back, that Blair understood on a level that surpassed language entirely and went straight to the soul. That nothing was gained or lost by Blair saying it, and nothing could be made greater or less by Jim not saying it.

But Jim's compulsion was just as strong because his feelings were just as strong. "I love you, too. Dear god, I love you Blair."

And Blair squeezed tightly for a moment, but only a moment. In the same way he had somehow known what was happening when Jim touched his face, in the same way he had somehow known how to pull both their minds away to some other place or some other awareness, he knew with unerring accuracy that there was only one more moment of this left. Then he allowed his grip around Jim's ribcage to relax and slowly eased back, finally opening his eyes to meet Jim's.

Jim briefly wondered why he wasn't panicking. This seemed like a perfect moment for all his deep-seated insecurities and discomforts and what Sandburg had called his fear-based responses to kick into overdrive. But he couldn't seem to muster any anxiety, not now.

"I think," Blair said softly, watching his eyes and smiling a little, "maybe it's like your truck after all."

Jim raised an eyebrow, his own face quirking into a warm smile.

"You can spend your whole life learning to drive, learning about cars, finding out how they work and what to listen for and everything, and you can go through a bunch of cars, never knowing you're waiting for the exact right one. And you'll drive some truly awful cars and some great ones, and you'll like some to the end and wind up hating others, but it's all practice. So when the right one finally comes along, you're not afraid anymore. The fear you had doesn't apply anymore. How could you be afraid of the very thing you're made for?"

It was trite, but it made Jim laugh anyway. And he reached out and tousled Blair's hair fondly, marveling at all the things that finally fit inside his mind when they had never fit before.

"I'm not," he said. "You're right. I'm not afraid."

_I will never be afraid of you again, Blair Sandburg. Or of this, of what this means_. _Of us_.

He didn't say it aloud – he didn't need to. He knew his partner heard him anyway.

"So," Blair said after a moment. "Was that what you...you know? With the dream?"

Jim had almost forgotten. With a start, he shook his head. "No, Chief. Well, yes, but that's not all." He met his Guide's eyes seriously. "Something's happened in Cascade. We need to go home. _Now_."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter leans on an episode of JQ: TRA called "Ndovu's Last Journey" which is, I think, one of the strongest from the early set. In short, while sightseeing in Tanzania, Jonny Quest is approached by an elephant at the end of its life, and the elephant, according to a Masai elder who appears shortly thereafter, chooses Jonny to be his guardian on his journey to where he intends to die. Jonny, Jessie, and Hadji have to battle some poachers to ensure the elephant's safety, and there's more than a hint of mysticism in the air during the encounter. It's a good one – you should check it out if you get the chance.
> 
> Definitely starting to go deeper with other things as well here.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Simon, it's Jim."

"Jim! Where the _hell_ have you been? I called you _ages_ ago!" Simon practically roared into the phone. "And do you have _any_ idea what _time_ it is?!"

"It's...complicated," Jim deflected, holding the phone a bit away as he flinched. "Anyway, we're on our way back to Cascade. We'll get there...what time will it be, Chief?"

"It's the middle of the night there, so we'll probably hit Cascade around six in the morning local time," Blair reported. "Which means we have to stay up all day to make sure we readjust to the time change."

"Great. We'll be in this morning," Jim turned back to the phone. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"Are Doctor Quest and Race with you?" Simon wanted to know.

"Yeah," Jim affirmed. "It didn't make much sense for them to stay behind without us at this point."

"Okay." Simon sighed. "Look, put me on speakerphone. Then I'll only have to say this once."

Jim shrugged but did as asked. He balanced the phone on the arm of his seat, giving it a vaguely central spot in the cockpit of the Dragonfly. Benton turned around from where he sat in front of Jim, and even Race shifted in his chair.

"Doctor Quest?" Simon asked.

"I'm here, captain," Benton answered. "How are things in Cascade?"

"Fantastic," Simon drawled, and even though they could still hear the hoarseness of sleep in his voice, the sarcasm was even sharper. "We've got a full-on arsonist on the loose, my two best detectives wandered off to go traipsing around who-knows-where, and your kids managed to get themselves right in the middle of it."

"Our kids?" Race asked tightly.

"Yeah. They came out to Cascade a while ago to talk about Sentinel stuff," Blair hedged. "Jonny didn't want you to worry and he asked us not to say anything."

"I'm sure he did," Benton scowled. Then he sighed. "I know my son, gentlemen. I assume he impressed upon you a desire to protect me or my work, to ensure I did not pull out of any important business on his behalf? And Hadji acquiesced because he always does when Jonny asks for something and Jessie argued with him but got outvoted?"

"Something like that," Jim nodded.

"I'll say one thing for those kids," Race was torn between rueful laughter and annoyance. "They're loyal."

"Sometimes I wish they were a little less loyal and a little more..." Benton trailed off.

"Obedient?" Jim suggested.

"Predictable?" Blair offered.

"At this point, I'd settle for straight-up boring," Simon groused. "They've got their own Sandburg Zone going out here."

"Are they okay?" Jim asked sharply.

"Yeah, so they say," Simon answered. "Not for lack of trying, though." He sighed again. "Look, the short version is they got themselves on the scene of another fire and Jonny inhaled some kind of poisonous fumes or something."

Before the four men could react, Simon cleared his throat.

"I _did_ call you, Jim. It seemed like a way around not breaking a promise to the kid to tell his dad. Not my fault you don't check your messages."

"But he's okay?" Benton pressed.

"Yeah. They called in a friend of yours? Doctor Zimbati? And he sent over some kind of tree sap or something that did the trick. He's fine."

Jim straightened up in his chair. Without even thinking about it, he blurted, "But something's wrong. I can hear it, Simon. Your heartbeat gives you away."

There was an aggrieved groan that might have been disparaging words if it had been more articulate. "I really hate your senses sometimes, Ellison."

"Just out with it, Simon!" Blair said with an overly bright grin.

"Fine! The kid is fine. They're all fine. Even that dog is fine. But Jonny's been real quiet and he and Hadji aren't saying two words to me. If I had to guess, I'd say it's more stuff with his senses." He paused, then added, "Also, Taggart and Daryl are both asking me a lot of questions, just so you know the trouble you've caused."

"Where are the kids now?" Race asked.

"Up at the lodge with that Ngama kid. Said they'd stay for a while _this_ time."

Benton dropped his face into a hand. "I'm sure they did."

Blair was snickering openly, and Jim threw him a questioning glare. "Why are you so happy about all this?"

"Because it means for once _I'm_ not the one failing to stay behind in the truck!" he cheered.

Jim rolled his eyes and unerringly smacked the back of his partner's head without even looking.

-==OOO==-

The early-morning reunion at the lodge was a little anticlimactic.

There was certainly a fair amount of fatherly concern and disappointment and lecturing that occurred, and it wasn't only the fathers of the group who did the lecturing – Jim got in a few good lines as well. Benton was mainly upset that he hadn't been told that Jonny was having Sentinel trouble, Race was angry that the three had headed to Cascade without letting him know their location in case of emergency, and Jim flashed with an ugly snarl of protectiveness when he learned how close Jonny had been to getting himself killed in that fire.

Unfortunately for all three men, Jessie, Jonny, and Hadji were absolute masters at handling that sort of reaction, having engendered it many, many times over the years. They were sincere and apologetic to Doctor Quest, sufficiently meek to Race, and they allowed Jim to roar at them until he ran out of steam. When all three adults had worn themselves down, only then did Blair speak up.

"So, let's summarize what we've learned here. You," he pointed at the younger trio, as well as Ngama who had stood by them in solidarity, "are not to put Benton's work above telling him if you're in trouble, Race always wants to know where you are, and you shouldn't go into burning buildings again. And you," he pointed to Jim, Race, and Benton, "have to admit, they did everything right."

"Sandburg," Jim growled, but his Guide held up a hand.

"Oh, I agree they should have been more careful or called Benton and Race when they left Maine. But you have to see it. They made a very sensible choice when they were out of their depths with Jonny's senses. They didn't try to keep it a secret from _us_ , and _we're_ the ones they needed. And as for that building," he pinned the three men with a sharp glare, "tell me to my face that every one of you wouldn't have done the exact same thing."

There was an awkward moment.

Blair grinned triumphantly. "That's what I thought. Like it or not, they did good." He winked at Jessie who was nearest him and she winked back.

"So where does that leave us now?" Benton wanted to know, chuckling lightly at Blair's accurate assessment.

"Well, we have a case," Jim said. "That arsonist is going down."

"Mind if I tag along?" Race asked.

"I'm not saying no, but why?" Jim asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, first, I don't take it well when somebody tries to set my family on fire," he said lightly, but there was a dark note in his voice. "Secondly, I've got a little experience with explosives myself. I might see something in your crime scene evidence that your people missed."

"Thirdly," Blair put in with an innocent, owl-eyed expression, "he's bored."

Race snorted indignantly, but Benton started to laugh. He laughed until Bandit felt the need to bark along with him and that set off everyone else.

"Wait," Ngama said, confused. "You have just been guarding Doctor Quest abroad in a difficult diplomatic situation regarding military-allied Sentinels and you are _bored_?"

"Oh yeah," Jonny slung a friendly arm around his shoulders. "Race isn't happy unless there's chaos and mayhem."

"Or at the very least," Hadji put in, "the opportunity to prove his great physical and mental prowess against a worthy adversary."

"He's the only guy I know who goes bull riding when he's been cooped up too long," Blair put in.

"I'm not _that_ bad," Race protested.

"Yes you are," Benton countered, grinning at his oldest friend.

"Sounds like we better take him on," Jim said slyly to his partner. "For his own good. It's clearly unhealthy for him to be so under-stimulated."

"I could provide a doctor's note," Blair offered impishly.

"Fine!" Race shook his head, fighting not to smile. "I could use some action that doesn't involve not picking fights with Russians. So does this mean I'm in?"

"Yeah," Jim nodded. "Simon'll make a fuss, but then Junior over here will pull SELF rank and that'll be that."

"There is still the matter of Jonny's senses," Benton said. "I'm not comfortable with the fact that they've disappeared without any discernible cause."

"I wouldn't say that," Blair suddenly said. He fixed his gaze on Jonny and a change passed over him, as if he were assuming the mantle of something much older and wiser than himself. When Blair looked up his eyes held shadows and secrets well beyond his years. "What Jonny needs he can only find in himself. I may set him on his path, but he will uncover the truth with no other help."

"So what should we do?" Benton asked softly, sensing even if he did not understand the marked change that he was witnessing in his young friend.

"We must clear the property. As few people here as possible, including the government agents. He must be alone, or as near to it as he can be. You," he locked gazes with Hadji, "you will help him if you remain."

"Then I shall," Hadji answered simply.

"May I stay?" Ngama asked. "If you send away all the guards, I will watch the gate myself."

Jim looked at the young man and nodded. "That'd be better than leaving absolutely nobody else on watch. And we won't be too far away if you need us."

"I'll...go spread the word," Race offered. He sent a perplexed look to Benton, but Race had been around Quest mysteries long enough to know when not to ask and just to accept.

"I guess this means I'm coming with you," Jessie said to Jim.

"You and Benton can work on that program to try to find the guy," Jim said. "Benton, you got a psych degree in that folder of diplomas of yours that you could turn into some profiling to help us get this firebug?"

"Why, yes, I do" he answered with a small smile. "After all, the study of human nature is as interesting a phenomenon as any other in the natural or theoretical world."

Jim turned back to Blair. "How long will they need?"

"I will speak with Jonny alone," Blair said, his voice still a little remote, as though it were echoing from a vast distance. "Then we should give them until sunset tomorrow."

"That gives you 36 hours to get your stuff in line," Jessie looked at Jonny sharply. "Think you can handle it?"

Jonny was looking a little bewildered himself, and he swallowed thickly. "I'll try, Jess." Then he forced himself to brighten. "Make sure you get that firebug. You don't want me to come back tomorrow and show you up."

Jessie tossed her head but the hand she put on Jonny's shoulder was gentle. "Deal." Then she turned back towards the stairs to head up to her room. "Seems like I'm always hauling my stuff around," she commented. "Good thing this time I barely unpacked."

"What should I do?" Hadji asked.

Blair turned to him and as the Guides made eye-contact there was a palpable snap of power in the air. "You must wait. Your time will come."

Hadji nodded wordlessly. He bowed his head in a brief farewell to his adopted father before moving out into the greatroom. One corner of the room near a large window was thickly carpeted but otherwise unfurnished, and it was here Hadji seated himself, facing the streaming sunlight to meditate. Bandit looked between the people gathered around before opting to follow, walking three circles around Hadji and then dropping to sleep pressed against his leg.

"What about us?" Jim asked. He took a breath and added, "Guide?"

"Join Race and the agents at the gate. I will be with you shortly." Then he beckoned to Jonny. "Come with me."

Outside, Jonny trotted after Blair in wonder, surprised at the slightly alien character being shown by his friend. But he couldn't deny that he felt something in it. It was something he'd felt in that moment months before when he had beaten Jaga to Hadji to claim him as his Guide. It was something he'd touched in encounters with the impossible and miraculous. Like a touch of eternity. He remembered one of Hadji's favorite quotes, something about things in heaven and earth being stranger than any philosophy. This was definitely one of those times.

Jonny followed Blair away from the central complex and out into the woods. Soon enough he found himself on one of the marked paths through the forest. Before long, they stood at a clearing that had an unobstructed view of the small waterfall on the site. The rushing water was a constant pressure in the air as both sound and mist, and something about its slight chill along with the mild wind that was picking up made Jonny shiver.

"You are afraid."

Jonny looked up in surprise at Blair's stony face. "Of a waterfall?"

"Of your true nature."

"I am not afraid to be a Sentinel!" Jonny protested.

"At home? Where you listen only to your family and the sounds you know? Yes, there you are not afraid. But here? Here you are a Sentinel and you feel the draw to protect a territory and a tribe. Here your senses must be relied upon. Here is where you are afraid."

Jonny wanted to argue but the words stuck in his throat.

"All Sentinels must face this fear. Like the child becoming an adult, it is time to stand in your place." Blair advanced on Jonny, causing him to back up quickly until a log caught him on the back of the knees and he sat hard on it.

"You know how to meditate, correct?"

"I...yes?" Jonny answered, confused.

"Then do so," Blair gestured. "Stay here until your answers come. If by nightfall tomorrow you have not chosen your path and learned to stand in it, I will help you then."

Blair turned without another word to head back down the path; Jonny could only watch him go wordlessly.

By the time he got back to the front of the lodge where Jim was waiting in the truck, Blair was feeling a lot more like himself. Plus very excited.

"Oh, man! That was amazing!" he cheered as he climbed aboard. "It was like...I woke up a part of myself that had been sleeping and I knew all this stuff that I, well, can't remember now but I knew it then and -"

"Easy, Chief," Jim said, putting the truck into gear and heading back down the road. He was aware of Race and Benton in a car ahead of them, and the last of the agents seemed to be clearing out, too. Ngama waved at him from the top of the front checkpoint. Or, as Jim felt like renaming it – and what exactly did this say about what his instincts were telling him about the state of things? – the battlements.

"It was wild, Jim," Blair said. "I don't even have words."

"I think I get it," Jim offered. After all, not long before he'd been driven by instincts of his own, and he couldn't be sorry about that part now, not one bit. "Think he'll be okay?"

"Honestly?" Blair leaned back and ran a hand through his wild curls. "If he gives into what he needs to do, yeah, I think he'll be fine."

-==OOO==-

"Where am I?" Jonny sat up, blinking curiously. "Looks like the savannah, but I think I'd remember one being blue."

The land seemed to go on forever, dotted by low hills and high grasses and scraggly trees. But instead of the golden colors he knew well from many trips to Africa, the world was tinted a dark indigo color. The sky overhead was a strange, pulsing pale blue, almost impossibly luminous against the darkness. How could the sky be so bright when the land was dark? Jonny looked for the sun to see if there was a cloud or something casting the odd bluish-purple shadow. The sky was empty.

Something moved in the brush behind him and Jonny whirled. He saw only the slightest tip of a tail vanishing between the tall stalks of grass and brush. Without knowing why, he felt compelled to follow it. So he did.

After running for what seemed like miles but was probably only a few hundred yards, the creature disappeared into some dense underbrush at the base of a large rocky outcropping. Jonny ducked straight after it, only vaguely cognizant that the area seemed familiar. He felt his foot pass from grass to stone and blinked at the darkness.

"A cave?" he wondered aloud. He turned to go back, but there was no passageway there any longer. "Great," he muttered to himself. "Okay, deep breath. You can do this."

Jonny focused on his sight, striving to extend it in the dense shadows to make out what was before him. But nothing happened. "Oh, come on!" he exclaimed angrily. "What's the point of being a Sentinel if you can't use it when you're in trouble?"

"The path of a Sentinel has nothing to do with you," intoned a voice. Suddenly Jonny could see a figure moving towards him. He squinted and blinked to try to make out the details.

"Ndovu!" he cried as he recognized the form of the Masai elder he had once known in Tanzania. An elder who was also, somehow, an elephant that had died under Jonny's hands. If he had not recognized the man himself, Jonny could never have forgotten the warm, broad brown eyes that met his with knowing wisdom and familiarity. As he blinked, he could almost see the elephant hovering in and around the form of the man.

"The path of a Sentinel has nothing to do with you," he repeated. "It is a path that belongs to the people you protect."

"I know!" Jonny said with some consternation. "I _want_ to protect people! So why can't I use my abilities anymore?" Then he stopped and considered. "Wait, is that why I'm here?"

"Yes. To become a Sentinel happens in phases, just as a seed becomes a sprout, becomes a sapling, becomes a tree, becomes a seed again. You carried the seed from birth, but sunlight and water gave you life as a sapling."

"You mean how I was born with the right genetics to be a Sentinel, but it took that dose of dad's formula and the environmental factors to make it happen."

Ndovu shrugged. "As a sapling, you have survived so long. But not all saplings continue to become trees. Some are eaten, consumed in a world too harsh for them. Others bow in the wind and never gain their strength. Some simply stagnate and remain as saplings."

"You're saying that I've come to a point where I could grow into being a Sentinel or not?"

"You have been initiated as a Sentinel. Now is the time to make a choice. You can surrender to the easier path and become an ordinary man, or you can embrace your strength and go forward. But if you choose the path of the Sentinel, it will require your life and your soul. Are you prepared to make such a journey?"

Ndovu studied Jonny with a look that reminded him of the elephant he had once known. The elephant who had stared into his heart and soul and chosen him to accompany and protect him on his own final journey. Jonny hadn't known what made him more worthy than Jessie or Hadji to follow the ancient creature to its final resting place, but Ndovu had made it clear that _he_ had seen the difference. He had looked at Jonny with such measurement in his intelligent eyes. The same measurement that was present now.

"When you say it will require my life and my soul, what do you mean?" Jonny asked.

"Your path will belong to the ones you protect. Your life will be as guardian and watchman and warrior. Your burden will be great, and not only your own to bear. If you make this journey, in time you will walk side-by-side with one chosen companion, and your path will become theirs."

"A Guide," Jonny said. "Which means Hadji. If I go ahead and choose to stay a Sentinel, he'll always be my Guide. And at some point we'll get connected like Jim and Blair. I'll give my life to being a Sentinel, and I'll give my soul to Hadji."

"As he will give his to you. If you choose to walk together, you will be lost to each other."

"I'm not afraid to lose myself," Jonny said, shaking his head. "And I'm not afraid to be a Sentinel for life, either. I just don't think it's fair that I get to decide by myself what'll happen to both our lives. Shouldn't Hadji get a vote?"

"The Sentinel must claim himself first," Ndovu said. "The Sentinel must choose the path. Only then may a Guide truly choose a Sentinel."

"Because who wants to be a Guide to a guy who isn't a Sentinel after a while?" Jonny nodded with understanding. "He's got to know who I am and what I can do and what I _choose_ to do before he can decide if he wants to share it with me. Okay, I get that."

"Your soul is strong, young one. You will endure the journey if you so choose."

Jonny let out a long breath. "Jim told me that his teacher taught him that 'A Sentinel will always be a Sentinel if he chooses to be.' I know Jim didn't always want to be a Sentinel. But it's different for me. Now that I've been a Sentinel, I can't imagine wanting to be anything else."

A form appeared from the shadows and perched at Ndovu's feet. Jonny took a step forward, feeling the same sensation that had led him to the cave in the first place. A feeling of connection. Of rightness. Of recognition.

"What is that?" he asked.

"It is you. It is the part of you that you must accept. It will guide you and protect you, and in time it will bind you to your people and to your true Guide."

The form stepped close enough for Jonny to see it clearly. It was a large red fox, its dark eyes winking with ancient clarity.

Jonny dropped to one knee before it. "I'll have to ask Hadji later what this means about me. Probably that I get myself into a lot of trouble and I'm too clever for my own good. But I don't know everything about this. I don't know how not to drive you away. I'm going to need your help, and Hadji is going to need you, too. Be patient with me, okay? I want this so much. Please help me get it right."

Jonny opened his arms. With a leap, the fox threw itself at Jonny. When it should have struck his chest, it sank into him with a flash of light. Jonny curled his arms around himself as though he could cradle the creature he could still vaguely sense within him like an echo of his own heartbeat.

"Remember, young one. Darkness will flee from the light that shines within. You must listen to yourself and not hide from the light, or the darkness will consume you. Deny your path and you will be lost."

Jonny rose slowly and faced Ndovu with his shoulders back and his head up, feeling the strength of something inexplicable burning within him. "Don't worry about me. I won't lose my way."

"May your path be just and your heart be wise," Ndovu raised a hand. "Strength and victory to you, Sentinel."

"Strength and victory, Ndovu. Go in peace, and thank you."

-==OOO==-

Simon looked around his bullpen. _Maybe I should just accept that it isn't really my bullpen anymore. I lost a little ground the first time Sandburg made himself at home here, and it's only gone downhill from there_.

Jim and Blair sat at their respective desks, each methodically going over the evidence and the few leads that had come in after the highly-publicized campus fire, Race Bannon perched on Jim's and adding his own opinion. Across the room, Joel was taking updates from the officers doing the canvasing and coordinating the search for possible witnesses. At another cluster of desks, Brown and Rafe were going through pile after pile of witness statements, Daryl pouring over the information he had helped catalog for any missed connections. Another set of desks had been appropriated by Doctor Benton Quest who, with Jessie at his side, had opened up three different laptops to coordinate between whatever his computer systems had found.

Rhonda looked up from her own desk and shot him a wry smile. Simon huffed in response, but Rhonda had known him long enough to know that his huff represented his own answering amusement. Apparently he wasn't the only one to notice that Major Crimes was staffed by as many civilians as cops these days.

But that didn't mean it wasn't still _his_ department. Simon cleared his throat loudly. "Listen up, people!"

All heads turned to where he stood, and Simon was privately gratified that he still towered over virtually everyone. Of course, it helped that Jim was seated.

"You've all been working good and hard all afternoon. We need to circle the wagons again and see if we've got anything. Meet in the conference room in five minutes to go over anything new."

He strode on ahead to make sure nobody else was using the conference room – and if they were, to get them out – and he didn't miss Rhonda falling in behind him. The room was thankfully empty, so Rhonda went a few doors down to the break room where she started to make more coffee. Simon smiled; that was a sharp woman he had as an assistant in all things practical around here. Not everyone would realize there was about to be a Major Crimes stampede for the coffee before the meeting.

"We're lucky to have them," she said apropos of nothing as he snagged a cup for himself and stood waiting for the first of the new coffee.

"Have who?" Simon asked. "Quest?"

"Well, yes," she acknowledged, "but I kind of meant the whole team." She eyed the timer on the big coffee-maker and added just a little more water. "There's nobody in that room not giving their best, even Daryl and Jessie. And there's nobody else on the force I'd want solving this case."

"Isn't that the truth?" Simon said softly.

The Ellison-Sandburg team might be the stars of Major Crimes with the best close rate, but frankly Brown and Rafe were right on their heels, and Joel was impressive even without a steady partner. The whole department was the envy of the Cascade PD, and every man on the team had won their place many times over. Having the Quest team get involved was just adding more to an already strong set of dedicated people.

The coffee-maker beeped and Simon had just claimed his cup when the room was filled with more than half the department and guests all edging to get their share. He guarded his own mug carefully as he slipped into the conference room. Benton and Jessie appeared next, still talking rapidly. Brown and Rafe appeared to have won the Coffee Grand Prix as they came in ahead of Blair and Jim, still teasing them. Race entered with Rhonda, and he handed a cup to Benton as Daryl arrived with Joel, the latter apparently having taken his time.

"All right, folks. What have we got?" Simon barely waited for everyone to be sitting.

"Forensics says all the devices, even the two that were in the Rainier building, were really simple," Jim began. "Anybody could make them with a couple of basic tools and an internet connection to pull up the plans."

"But there's something weird about them," Blair said. "Jim noticed that what was left of the bombs didn't look right to him. We didn't know what we were looking at, but he did." He nodded to Race.

Race put in his own opinion. "All the parts are computer parts. Normally people make bombs with, you know, standard wires. The kind anybody might pick up at a hardware store. But these were all really specific. Almost all the components of all the bombs come from the exact kind of materials you use when you build a desktop computer."

"That goes with what we found, captain," Rafe spoke up. As everyone turned to him, he cleared his throat. "Well, the thing is that the original program that ran showed that the bus was probably heading to a collection of technology firms on the edge of the city."

"We assumed that the commuter was heading from the suburbs into downtown," Brown added. "But with the last stuff Daryl put into the program, it looks like it could be the other way around. Our firebug lives in downtown and commutes in the opposite direction."

"That's why the fires have been steadily moving eastward," Simon said as he thought aloud. "He's heading back to work with this stuff."

"That follows with our profile," Benton said. "Jessie and I have been working to compile a basic profile of similar arsonists from all over the world. The characteristics are very clear. Our arsonist is probably a younger man, somewhere between 25 and 40, and likely in a very junior position professionally."

"Low man on the totem pole," Simon said.

"Exactly," Benton nodded. "Most arsonists are emotionally immature, impulsive, and shortsighted. They struggle with their own powerlessness, and they lash out violently when they are upset by it, not necessarily understanding that what they're doing has consequences."

"So we just need to find the office jerk of those tech companies who lives downtown and we'll have our guy," Jim said. "Easier said than done."

"We've already managed to cross-reference the company rosters with housing and the shopping receipts," Benton said. "Our pool of possible perpetrators is actually fairly short, and there's one who stands out..."

Jessie had brought one laptop in with her and it beeped at her. She opened it at once, and the sudden urgency of her posture brought all eyes to her.

"Doctor Quest!" she exclaimed, pushing the computer over.

Simon moved around the table to look over Benton's shoulders. His eyes widened. "Does that say what I think it does?"

"Yes," Benton confirmed.

"People, get ready to move." Simon ordered tersely. He looked around the room even as his well-developed cops' instincts began to scream.

"Our primary suspect, one Rodney Stratton, was fired from his position this morning for an 'unprofessional outburst.'"

"Which means?" Daryl asked in a strangled voice.

"Which means," Jim said darkly as he shot to his feet, "he's just been tipped over the edge. He'll strike again unless we find him first."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One warning – if my cliffhangers tend to bug you, you might want to wait until the next chapter goes up late this week before you read this one. 'Cause there is a doozy in store. Consider yourselves warned.
> 
> Enjoy!

Everyone was on their feet and half-running back to the bullpen, Joel already calling in an All-Points-Bulletin while Brown and Rafe started deciding who would go where to split up and try and find Stratton. But as they cleared the double-doors and people raced to their desks for keys and such, Blair suddenly stopped in the middle of the room. He held out both hands.

"Wait!"

"Sandburg, this isn't the time," Simon began, but the glare levied at him actually surprised him into silence.

"We can't just go speeding out there crazily!" Blair snapped. "He's been loose for hours. He might already have built and placed more bombs. If we start swarming the city without a plan, he'll hit his target before we even know where to look."

"Sandburg's right." Jim stepped up behind his partner and nodded at him. "We have to be smart about this."

"Doctor Quest?" Blair looked to Benton.

"Do it," Benton ordered.

Blair turned back to Simon and took a breath. "Captain Banks, at this time I am invoking my authority as a contractor and deputized agent for the Department of Homeland Security. This threat of terrorism falls within the agency's purview, and I have the right to take over this operation now that we have confirmed a domestic threat." His voice rang with certainty and conviction.

"You can do that, Hairboy?" Henri was staring at Blair, car keys dangling from a finger.

"I can and I just did." Blair glanced at Jim just once for reassurance before he plowed on. "And that means I can speed things up. Race," he looked over to the bodyguard, "put in a call to Howitzer. We'll want a warrant for what we're about to do."

Race grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. "On it, Sandburg."

"Doctor Quest? Jessie?" Blair turned to them.

"Already way ahead of you," Jessie reported. She'd slid into the nearest chair the instant Blair had called for a stop and was typing furiously.

"What will you do?" Joel asked.

Benton had leaned over Jessie and was watching, but he looked up to answer, "As soon as we get that warrant, our network can ping Stratton's cell phone and triangulate his approximate location. We should have it in a matter of minutes."

"What, you can find anybody you want just by knowing their cell phone number?" Brian asked.

"That's how it works," Jessie answered absently.

"Howie wants to know if you want any military dispatched?" Race reported.

Blair actually turned to Simon. "Your call, sir. I can bring the big guns, but if you think we can handle it, I'll tell them to wait."

Simon was still sort of reeling from the rapidity of how the situation had changed. He looked to Jim as if for help, and Ellison grinned broadly at him. "Our little boy's all grown up, Simon." Then, more seriously, "This is still our case, captain. Blair's just giving us a leg up. Like he said, it's your call."

"Keep them back," Simon decided. "I don't want to spook this guy if he sees the whole army bearing down on him. We can always bring them in later."

Race nodded and turned back to his phone, speaking rapidly. Blair moved to stand over where Doctor Quest and Jessie were calculating a more precise location based on their initial results. Jim caught Simon's eye.

"You taking this okay?"

"Me? Sure," Simon said. "It's not like the Feds coming in and taking our case away from us. It's more like having an ace up your sleeve. A really, really big, well-funded ace." Then he frowned. "Why? It bugging you?"

"Me?" Jim was surprised. "No." Then he smiled gently. "I'm just proud of Blair." He lowered his voice. "Benton could have done that himself, you know. Or Race. They've both got more than enough authority and clearance. They let him take it."

"Because he needed it," Simon realized. "He needed to assert his place and his new role. I knew he'd been having kind of a tough time of it in the department."

Jim glanced through the room at the others who staffed the division but weren't really part of the inner circle. Their wide-eyed astonishment shone clearly. Blair had not only just offered an amazing advantage over a very dangerous situation, but he had commanded the room with the confidence and competence of a career captain.

"One good thing to come out of all this," Simon said. "Whatever happens with our perp, I think Sandburg's life just got a lot easier around here."

-==OOO==-

Jonny woke from his meditation feeling…wonderful. He blinked and almost without effort stretched out his senses, taking in the forest around him. And his senses extended beyond his previous range, beyond even his Sentinel best.

"All _right_!" he yelled, jumping to his feet and doing an impromptu victory dance. "I'm back!"

He could pick Hadji's quiet respiration out all the way back at the lodge, could hear Bandit snoring at his side. Beyond that he could hear the steady footsteps of Ngama walking above the main front gate. The sounds of the forest were soothing, familiar, natural. Jonny felt like he fit inside his skin like never before.

Then he heard Ngama suck in a sharp breath and begin to run for the stairs. Jonny didn't know what Ngama had perceived, but the sudden increase in his heart-rate pounded in Jonny's ears. Without realizing he was doing it, Jonny took his cue from Ngama and started to run as well, both heading to the lodge from opposite directions.

They burst into the greatroom at almost the same moment.

"Jonny!" Hadji rose quickly to his feet. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, Hadj," Jonny spared a moment to grin at his brother. "I'm fine. Better than ever."

"But something is wrong," Ngama said, striding across the room. "Something is very, _very_ wrong."

-==OOO==-

Rodney Stratton sat on the ground, handcuffed. He was average in every way – average height, average weight, his hair a plain sandy-brown, his clothing ordinary and unremarkable. But the look in his eyes, a strangely feral devil-may-care light, made all that blandness oddly sinister.

"What did I do, officers?" he asked in a nasal tone. "I was just getting gas. I wasn't even going to steal it."

Simon towered over him, flanked by his team. For that matter, the entire gas station was surrounded by police.

"Captain!" Jim shouted. He had gone straight for Stratton's vehicle. "There's residue of explosives here, and wire-cutters as well as a few familiar parts and wires."

"Good enough for me," Simon said. "Rodney Stratton, you are under arrest for arson, destruction of private property, and attempted murder."

"Do I need a lawyer?" Stratton asked, and even Blair couldn't tell if he was honestly confused or playing with them. But he was happy to answer.

"As a duly designated agent of the Department of Homeland Security, I should inform you that you could be subject to federal procedures." He smiled darkly, wincing internally at the irony. Naomi would have a _fit_ if she knew what her son was about to threaten. "I'm sure you've heard the rumors. No lawyer is going to save you from where you're going." He let his smile get even more predatory. "That's assuming you ever _see_ a lawyer. Or anybody else outside a chain-link fence for the rest of your life."

At that, Stratton actually paled, his skin going almost translucent white.

Blair maintained eye-contact even though his own words made his skin crawl.

Simon stepped in smoothly. "But if you confess right now and sign a statement as to everything you've done, the DHS won't take custody of you. You'll stay in Cascade for your sentence."

Jim watched Stratton's head rubberneck between Simon and Blair. Simon had feet of height on Sandburg and an imposing manner, and yet it was Blair Stratton cowered from. "Yeah, okay. Just keep the Feds away from me!"

"How many more bombs are there?" Jim demanded.

"Um…well, there's four."

_God help us_ , Simon prayed. "Where are they? And how long do we have?"

"They're…they're all up in the woods. Way far away." Stratton's nerves gave way to the anger that had driven him in the first place. "Stupid people! Stupid Cascade! My place should be safe because they'll have the fires out by then, but all the outer belt stuff can burn to a crisp for all I care."

"The outer belt?" Joel asked. He turned and his eyes fell on the thickly forested mountains that surrounded the city. "Captain, we haven't had more than a sprinkle of rain up there in weeks. It's still the worst of fire season."

"Yeah!" Stratton cheered. "I love the helicopters that dump water on forest fires. Now _that's_ some nice technology. The very best in aerospace—"

"Shut up!" Jim snarled. "Where up there are the bombs? And how soon before they go?"

"Uh, one's over there," he pointed vaguely to the south-east. "One's up there," he pointed to the mountain nearest the eastern suburbs, "way back in campsites off in the woods. The last two are out there somewhere on the side of the big road," he pointed north-east. "I didn't exactly keep a map."

"How much time?" Joel menaced.

Stratton shrugged. "The last two had way shorter timers since the fire has farther to go. The first two probably have about an hour."

Simon almost lunged for the man, and only Blair's grab for his arm kept him from losing his temper completely and inflicting some serious police brutality on the guy. "Simon, don't! We've got to worry about those bombs!"

"Captain," Race said, drawing his attention. The Quests had, of course, refused to be left behind. Keeping Daryl at the office had been a near thing as it was. "We've got a problem."

Simon almost tore the man's head off for his obvious statement but Race charged on. "The two that he says are 'up there?' That's not far from SELF lands."

Simon cursed. Race was right. The two bombs to the northeast could very well be on the same mountain as the SELF lodge. Which was also, incidentally, the direction from which the wind was blowing. Simon didn't need eighteen doctorates to know that if they went up, not only would they take out anybody up at the SELF place, but that fire would sweep down into the city valley with the speed of a hurricane.

"Doctor Quest!" Jessie called. She pushed through the crowd to show a handheld device. "Look!"

"What is it?" Jim asked.

"We've got a satellite overhead," Benton said. "If we can narrow down the search range, we can probably locate the one over there," he pointed to the east, "because the tree cover isn't as dense."

"And we," Blair pointed to himself and Jim, "have the best chance of finding one, too. Jim's good in the woods."

"You said the two up north are on the side of the road?" Simon turned back to Stratton.

"Yeah. Lots of fenced in property up there, so I just dumped 'em."

"We've got to split up," Jim said. "The Forest Service won't find them in time."

Simon knew what he had to do. He just took a moment to rage at the folly of the universe before giving his orders. "Ellison and Sandburg, head south. Quest, you go straight east. Joel, you're with me to the north. Rafe and Brown, get this piece of garbage back to the station and see if you can wrangle any more details out of him. Radio in anything you get. I need you guys to coordinate the bomb squads and the fire service and get them right on our tails. We can't wait for them to scramble."

Brown and Rafe looked at their captain for a moment's wide-eyed surprise before Brian shook himself. "We're on it, sir. The backup will be on its way before we even get to the interrogation room." He reached down to haul Stratton to his feet, Brown belatedly joining him. They both started back to one of the cars, one arm on their prisoner and the other pulling out phones to begin shouting orders.

"You lot!" Simon raised his voice to all the other uniforms on the scene. "This is an emergency! Get the word out and start setting up police lines all along the eastern side of the suburbs. Anybody sees fire, call it in. And keep all civilians out of those mountains!"

Then he was striding towards his own vehicle, rapidly calling in the situation to the Commissioner and requesting emergency procedures, which he was immediately granted. He'd just opened his car door when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Make it fast, Quest," Simon growled.

Benton nodded solemnly. "We won't let you down. Just…take care of my boys."

Simon swallowed a bitter lump and nodded. "I'll call them from the road. If they have any sense, they'll be on their way before we even get up there to try to diffuse the bombs."

Jim and Blair were already running to the truck, but at Simon's words which Jim had tracked even through the chaos, he groaned.

_They've got sense, all right. The wrong kind of sense_!

-==OOO==-

Jonny hung up his phone and looked across to Ngama and Hadji. "Dad says there's a couple of bombs up here capable of starting a wildfire. He says for us to clear out." He turned to look out across the forest. The view from the roof of the lodge really was spectacular.

"I note that you aren't moving," Hadji said dryly.

Ngama nodded at Jonny. "I too feel it."

"You mean that weird churning in your stomach that says you have to do something, not just run away?"

"Yes," Ngama said with the ghost of a smile. "That exactly."

"We should have a little time to figure something out," Jonny said. "Dad says the bombs aren't set to go for another half hour or more."

Both Sentinels suddenly twitched and turned to the north. An instant later, there was a deep _BOOM_.

"Scratch that," Jonny said as smoke began to rise in the distance. His nose twitched as the brisk wind carried a scent to him. "Looks like our firebug needs a new watch."

-==OOO==-

Simon and Joel were just turning onto the highway that led up the mountain when Brown radioed in.

"Captain! One of the choppers on the alert reports smoke up your direction!"

"Dammit!" Simon swore. "Mobilize the emergency crews. We need them up here _now_!"

"Simon, it's so dry up here it's like a barn fire – the forest will go up in a matter of minutes. That fire can spread almost twice as fast as you or I can walk!"

Looking up the road into the first turn and not knowing how soon he might come upon a wall of flames, Simon could only grimace.

-==OOO==-

Jim and Blair had been listening to the scanner and both felt the hot streak of alarm go through them at that news. Blair didn't even fault his partner for increasing his reckless driving by a few degrees of magnitude, pushing the truck up into the southern wilds at speeds normally even Jim would blanch at.

"How are we going to find the bomb?" Blair asked breathlessly.

"He said it was at a campsite," Jim said tightly. "That narrows it down to the part that isn't private property or national park. I know the area pretty well."

"Yeah, but…" Blair trailed off.

Suddenly Jim slammed on the brakes _hard_. The truck skidded to a halt at a fork in the road.

"What the hell, Jim?" Blair cried.

"Look!"

The jaguar and the wolf stood on one of the two roads ahead of them, both of them growling fiercely, their hair raised and their tails lashing angrily.

"I vote we go that way!" Blair yelled.

Jim hit the gas and sped up that branch of road as the pair of spirit animals impossibly ran ahead of them. When they reached a camping area, they dashed into the parking lot and gestured away into the tree before vanishing.

"Come on!" Jim shouted, bounding from the truck almost before he'd turned off the ignition.

Blair paused just long enough to grab his phone before following.

-==OOO==-

"Race, I've got it!" Benton shouted. Race had been driving their van at speeds he felt pretty sure meant they'd be replacing the whole vehicle after the wear-and-tear, but Benton's cry didn't even cause him to pause.

"Where?" he asked tersely.

"Another two miles along this road, then turn off to the right."

"It should be down a path to the east," Jessie added. "Less than a couple hundred yards."

"Will it do any good for me to tell you to stay behind with the van?" Race asked.

"Not a chance," Jessie declared.

-==OOO==-

"We have to do something!" Jonny said, watching horrified as the fire spread. The second bomb had exploded only a few minutes after the first, and now a wall of flame was steadily growing as it began to bear down on them.

"Think, my friend!" Hadji said suddenly. "When faced with a situation far beyond what any man could bear alone, what does he do?"

"Not a good time for a riddle, Hadj," Jonny glared.

"Read more history," Hadji advised. " _Alone we can do so little. Together we can do so much_. Helen Keller."

"What are you saying?" Ngama asked.

Hadji took a deep breath. "Recall the history of your own people, Ngama. In times of great calamity, your people summoned a guardian, a being of spirit and energy that was able to defend your people from danger. We are both intimately aware of what such a creature can do, if we could only call upon its assistance."

"Ngama, can you do what your shaman did?" Jonny pressed. "Do you know the ritual?"

Ngama let out a breath. "I do know it, and thanks to my father's supplies we even have the necessary components," he said, "but it is very dangerous. I am not a shaman."

"But Hadji is," Jonny replied. However, Hadji was shaking his head.

"Last time the shaman cast this ritual, it was I who stood as the anchor for the creature," he said. "It did not endanger me as it did you, Ngama. I cannot be the one to summon it – I must be the one to whom it is linked."

"No way!" Jonny almost shouted. "No way are you going to be the one that thing uses to get here!"

"Do you have a better idea?" Hadji challenged him.

"Yeah, I do," Jonny nodded. "Ngama does the ritual on _both_ of us. I'll be the physical strength, and you can be the spiritual strength."

"Can it be done?" Hadji asked.

"Yes," Ngama nodded. "The legend is that this ritual is meant for a Sentinel and Guide to share, that their energies together make the creature stronger. The guardian almost killed me partly because I was not a Sentinel yet and partly because the shaman is not my Guide, and he did not share in it with me. He told me this himself while...convincing me to become his Sentinel over the tribe."

"Then we'll do it together," Jonny caught Hadji's eyes and held them.

His brother nodded. "Yes. Together." He turned to Ngama. "Show us what to do."

Which is how the three of them found themselves on the roof of the lodge, looking out at the smoky forest before them. Ngama had the drum on his lap and he had cleared an area to set down the biggest pot in the kitchen in which they had built a tiny fire.

"You must not hesitate," he warned Hadji, who knelt over the fire with more than a little uncertainty on his face. "Your will is what will be the saving of you."

"I believe in you, Hadj," Jonny said stoutly, sitting beside his brother.

"Then I choose to believe in your belief," Hadji said.

Ngama began the drumming and the chant.

-==OOO==-

"They'll never make it!" Simon nearly drove off the road in his haste. "The Forest Service fire-fighting team is too far away!"

"Simon, those kids should have had plenty of warning," Joel said. "We should have seen them on the road by now heading our way."

"I know," Simon growled and tried to coax a few more miles-per-hour from the car. "That's what worries me!"

But as they wound around another bend in the road, Simon had to slam on the brakes as an enormous figure loomed over the hillside.

"God help us, what is _that_!?"

It was just over thirty feet in height, but its size seemed almost fluid, subject to change from moment to moment. The whole thing looked almost unreal, like a shape projected onto the scene with lights and lasers, its edges blurry and shifting. But the brush that crunched under its feet as it moved illustrated its reality.

Joel looked at Simon with wide eyes. "It's _them_ , somehow, isn't it?" he knew intuitively.

Simon could only shrug.

The creature was an odd hybrid, and as it solidified with every step it took, its shape became more and more distinctive. It was something like a gryphon, but where a true gryphon had the head of an eagle and the body of a lion, this was a mix of an eagle and a fox. The head was shaped like an eagle's, the beak curving sharply, but instead of feathers it was covered with a dark red fur. The basic shape was that of a fox, complete with the glorious plume of a tail that seemed to have flashes and streaks of other, foreign colors running through it. Springing from the creature's shoulders was a pair of eagle's wings, every feather outlined translucently against the sunlight.

The fox-eagle gave a cry that was like no sound either animal could produce, a cry of anger and protectiveness and fear and fury. And then it charged towards the fire that was still eating away at the mountainside beyond.

"Simon, how...?" Joel rubbed a hand over his face, unable to finish the question.

"I don't know," Simon shook his head, downright numb with shock. Then he forced himself to breathe normally and regain control. "But I think we better get to the lodge even faster now."

Still, he couldn't take his eyes from the creature that was now fighting the forest fire as though it were an opponent.

Unfortunately, the fire appeared to be winning.

-==OOO==-

When Hadji had been the vessel for the spirit guardian before, he had had no awareness of the creature's actions in the real world, but instead had been painfully aware of its drain on his mind and soul from inside. He had felt the door ripped open in his spirit through which the guardian had come to manifest, and he had been aware of Jonny breaking as many metaphysical laws as he could to use Questworld to try to fight it off before it destroyed Hadji as it had almost destroyed Ngama.

But that, Hadji now knew, was a totally different situation. Then, it had been a shaman invoking a power without the permission of the Sentinel who was its vessel, a shaman who knew the ancient ways and rituals but lacked the spiritual fortitude to join with the young Sentinel fully in the mind.

Hadji was aware of Jonny's mind, or perhaps his soul, hovering just at the edge of his awareness. But Jonny's focus was elsewhere; Hadji had directed his brother's mind to their manifested spirit creature. He understood intuitively that he could, if he wished, exert effort and put his own mind there, seeing through the guardian's eyes and combating the danger directly. But that was not how this was meant to be done. In the way the universe tended to reveal itself to him, Hadji had come to understand this miraculous ability.

It was the combined souls and strengths of a Sentinel and Guide that made it possible. The Guide, as shaman, invoked the trance state and worked the powers of the mind. The Sentinel, as guardian, provided the unique strength as well as lending a depth of perception to what would otherwise be an unaware spirit presence. It took both to manifest enough energy and to fill it with will and awareness.

What had been done to Ngama was not how this process was meant to work. Then, the medicine man of his people had used Ngama, taken the strength from his young body and mind. But that shaman had also pushed the Sentinel almost to the point of death so he could himself be the mind and will within the guardian, taking what should be a balanced effort and ripping away any choice Ngama might have had. It was only because the shaman had poured so much of himself into it, and taken so much from Ngama already, that Hadji had managed to insert himself into the process to save his friend's life the first time.

If Hadji, even with Jonny's permission, upset the delicate balance of this act, one of the two of them would be in grave danger. Just as Ngama had been pushed to near the point of death by the ruthless choice of that shaman, Hadji had the power to take Jonny's strength and spirit for his own and push all the physical consequences and backlash on his brother. But, of course, Hadji would will himself dead before he would ever do such a thing.

In the strange void of his own mind, Hadji monitored the otherworldly spirit powers, keeping them balanced and controlled, unable to see what choices Jonny was making outside, but knowing in his very soul that he could trust his Sentinel with those choices completely.

-==OOO==-

"Race, do you know what you're doing?" Benton asked as he looked at the sinister device.

"Yeah, sure," Race grumbled. "Like riding a bike. A really explosive bike."

But his wry commentary aside, Race had seen much better bombs than this one before in his time. This had been printed off the internet and assembled in a kitchen by someone who couldn't rewire a wristwatch.

"Okay, gang," he said after another minute. "I'm going to count down from ten and make the cut. I want both of you over there behind that boulder," he pointed. "It should shield you from a blast and give you enough shelter to clear out if it goes wrong."

"But dad!" Jessie protested.

"No, Ponchita," he said firmly. "You duck, just in case." He looked up to his best friend. "Benton?"

"I understand, Race." _I understand you're pretty sure everything will be fine, but you can't trust yourself enough to let us stand here. I understand you are taking a risk and you won't risk me or your daughter. I understand that if you happen to be wrong and the worst happens, I will take care of Jessie. I understand that you are sorry and you can't bear to say goodbye_.

Benton took Jessie by the hand and began to walk.

"Dad!" she called again.

"Don't," Benton told her. "Trust him. Trust him and he will better trust himself."

Behind the rock, Benton pushed Jessie to the ground and curled protectively over her. As Race began the countdown, Benton closed his eyes. He'd never been a man of prayer, but now he hoped with all his heart that he was not about to lose the man who had been his family for so long.

"Ten."

Jessie trembled and clung to Benton's shirt.

"Nine. Eight. Seven."

"I believe in your father. Don't you?"

"Six. Five."

"Yes."

"Good girl."

"Four."

"I love you, dad!"

"Three. Two."

_Please_.

"One."

The only sound was a sudden silence.

-==OOO==-

It was too much for them. Hadji could feel it, the tearing chaos ravaging at the edges of his consciousness. When he had stood in Ngama's place and the guardian had ripped through his mind to manifest, it had been Jonny's battle in a strange combination of virtual reality and a metaphysical manifestation that had prevented the guardian from overwhelming him. Even then, they had only needed to withstand the guardian's presence for a matter of minutes. Time had lost its meaning, but Hadji knew they had clearly surpassed the strength of his own mind.

_Show me_ , Hadji commanded. And in the world of the mind, his command was absolute.

Like a window opening, Hadji could perceive and comprehend. It wasn't visible, not something he could have drawn or photographed. But he innately understood that these swirls of sensation were himself, these were Jonny, and this crackle like lightning was the guardian breaking them apart. And with the same strength that brought him insight, he also knew he had the ability to change what was before him. And change it he must, for without some kind of intervention, the guardian would destroy them both.

_Forgive me, Jonny. My friend. My brother. My Sentinel_.

Hadji redirected the guardian and all awareness vanished.

-==OOO==-

"Focus, Jim!" Blair cried. "He said it would go in just a few minutes!"

"You should get back to the truck!" Jim replied angrily, still striding through the dense undergrowth.

"No way!" Blair stomped furiously after him. "Partners, man! Remember?"

Jim was about to argue with him, but a scent caught him and he turned, automatically piggybacking his sight to his nose and tracking it. A clearing ahead – and a detonator! "There!"

Jim pelted through the last yards of the forest to where the small campsite sat eerily still. A barrel was leaning against a picnic table with a small box wired to it.

"Joel!" Blair shouted into his phone. "It's a bomb! Tell us what to do!"

Jim opened his hearing for the reply. "Don't touch it!"

"No can do," Jim reported as he came to a stop. "This thing's set to blow."

Blair appeared beside him and gulped. "Joel, it goes off in less than three minutes!"

"Get out of there!" came the order. "You can't diffuse it that fast!"

"And if it blows, the fire could take out half of Cascade!" Jim shouted.

"Clear out of there, Jim!" came Simon's voice. "Let the firefighters and Forest Service people handle that if it happens!"

Jim wanted to. He wanted to run. But he couldn't. If this barrel went up, the volume of the explosive would carry fire for yards through the dense, dry forest. By the time anyone equipped to handle a forest fire arrived, they'd be talking about acres and acres of burning ground and with the stiff wind it would only increase. The smoke and flames would bear down on the southeastern suburbs. So many people's homes and lives would be in peril.

His place was here, at the heart of the danger, to prevent it if he could.

"Sandburg," he said roughly.

"I know," Blair's voice was low and firm. "I'm with you, Jim."

A sparkle of profundity wound around them both.

"We've got time for one good move or maybe two," Blair said, eyeing the timer that had dropped under ninety seconds. "What do you think, Jim?"

"If I can trace which wire is the ignition, I can pull it out," Jim answered.

"Good thinking!" Blair cheered. "The ignition wire should smell different because it has to produce an actual spark at the end."

_And if I fail_ , Jim thought morosely, _I'll get my face blown off_.

He glanced at Blair. _And my Guide will die_.

_Never_.

-==OOO==-

"Hadji!" Jonny sat up with the scream caught in his chest.

"Jonny!" Ngama stared. "What is happening?"

"I was the guardian," Jonny said breathlessly, scrambling to his knees and lunging to Hadji's still form. "We were it together but I was its eyes and brain. And I felt like…we were dying. And then Hadji was there and…"

"The guardian remains," Ngama pointed, "but it is not what it was."

Jonny didn't need Sentinel vision to see a vast tawny eagle battling the last of the wildfire, nor did he miss that its form was flickering dramatically.

"He took it all into himself," Jonny grabbed for Hadji's shoulders where his brother was stretched out limp on the rooftop. "He pushed me out because the guardian was killing us! And now it's killing him!" He looked up wildly. "What do I do?"

"I don't know," Ngama admitted.

"Hadji! _Hadji_! Come on! You can't do this!" Jonny had pulled his brother half into his arms and was almost hyperventilating. "Please, just let the guardian go!"

"If he does that," came a new voice, "many lives will be lost."

Jonny's head snapped up even though he somehow knew the voice was not something he could perceive with his ears. "Ndovu?"

"The Guide has chosen your life, and the lives of those below, over his own. He will remain with the guardian spirit until his own is exhausted." The old man, brown elephant eyes solemn, stood before him.

"No!" Jonny roared, hugging the still body, all his senses feverishly tracking the slowing heartbeat, the shallow respiration.

"You wish to save him, Sentinel?"

"Yes!"

"You must be patient, young Sentinel. You will have your opportunity when his spirit falters. You will bring him back to you with your own power, and his path will become yours."

Jonny looked down at Hadji with a gulp. "Bonding. Like Jim and Blair. And he'll never be able to…we'll…" He looked up, stricken. "You told me before he would have a choice!"

"He will," Ndovu answered calmly. "Life is a constant, no matter its vessel. This path is yours. If he chooses to refuse it, he will find another elsewhere."

"Where?" Jonny demanded.

"Where doesn't matter," Ndovu said, frowning. "Elsewhere."

"You're saying…I'll give him a way back here. But if he doesn't take it, he won't be Hadji anymore. The Hadji I know will die. And he'll…go on like you. Or get reborn. Or something." Jonny blinked harshly against the tears tracking down his face.

"Yes."

"Oh god," he bent his head to Hadji's, alarmed at the coolness of his skin.

"Wait, Sentinel. And when his strength fails, make your choice."

Jonny sobbed once, low and deep. He'd knocked Hadji's turban askew and now he buried his face in Hadji's long hair. He forced words out through ragged breathing.

"It's already made on my side, Ndovu. It was never really a choice at all."

-==OOO==-

"You did it!" Jessie cheered, bounding from behind the rock and racing to her father.

"Yup," he smiled, his face shiny with sweat. "It was a near thing, but the ignition wire's out. Now we just take it apart bit by bit."

"I can help," Benton said, smiling broadly.

Race wanted nothing more than to refuse, to send them back behind the cover in case the thing decided to blow anyway. It was still explosive, still dangerous. But the look in Doctor Quest's eyes stopped him. Those pale eyes could be laughing or commanding or inquisitive or kind, but now they were blazing.

Race nodded. _I understand, Benton. You let me do this alone once, but you won't let me be alone anymore. I just hit the limit of what you can stand. And now you know I'll be safer if you're here helping me this time_.

"Stay back, Jessie," Race said anyway. With careful movements, the two men began picking apart the pieces of the inert bomb.

Their phones went of simultaneously. Jessie picked up hers.

"We're okay," she said quickly.

Simon's yell was part fear and part anger. "Yeah, well, Jim and Blair aren't!"

-==OOO==-

Jim didn't have time for the despair to crawl up his chest.

"Chief, I can't!" he turned to his partner, face stricken. The wires were all saturated in scents that made them hard to tell apart.

"You can!" Blair insisted. "Come on, Jim! Focus!"

"I _am_!" he roared, pushing his face as close as he dared to the device. But it was too much, too fast, with only seconds. The wires looked the same! They smelled wrong, all of them! His fingers hovered over the bundle uncertainly.

Oh god. The timer.

"I'm so sorry." Jim whispered the words with the last three seconds.

Blair's hand was suddenly warm on his as the last second ticked down. "I'm here, Jim."

...Nothing happened.

"Um. Is it…?" was all Blair could ask breathlessly.

Jim blinked incredulously at the device. The timer read zero. It should have gone off.

"It should have blown," he said shakily. Then the realization hit him.

He spun away from it and flung his arms around Blair. His heart was pounding in his chest and he pressed his face into the top of Blair's head. His Guide had grabbed him and was squeezing him for all he was worth, and neither could tell who was shaking harder.

"You could have…" Jim said hoarsely.

"You too," Blair answered with a hiccupping sound.

"Next time I tell you to go back, you go!" Jim wasn't sure if he was shouting or begging.

"No way." The sudden solidness of Blair's words brought Jim up short and he blinked in surprise. He leaned back enough to catch his partner's eye.

"Blair, you were almost…"

"We're in this together, Jim," Blair said with a strange, blazing power. "Life and death, Jim. I'm your Guide and you're my Sentinel. A bomb this week or nuclear disaster next week or a plague next month or an angry Mayor or killer bees or World War Three. I'm at your side _until the end_." His eyes flashed. "And we'll be right there on the edge, saving the day or dying trying. _Together_."

"Together," Jim repeated the word wonderingly.

" _Together_." Blair smiled. "And sometimes the universe will give us a gift, like this. And if it doesn't, then we'll still be together. That's how it works, man."

There again was that trickle of light and water and sensation and memory and Jim knew, even if he hated it, that Blair was right. They were in it together forever, no matter what. Jim had called Blair back from death, and now they were linked. And not even a bomb would part them – even if it relocated them rather violently.

Jim didn't have to like the idea to accept that it was true. He settled for hugging Blair once more before briskly letting go and turning back towards the bomb.

"I just want to make sure it won't give us any surprises, Chief," he explained.

He bent close and peered. Then he jerked back in shocked surprise.

"What?" Blair asked.

"It's _not_ possible." Jim shook his head, blinked his eyes, and looked again.

Moments before, he had been touching these very wires, trying to decide which to disable. But now, one wire, an innocuous one in the bunch, was cut. Cut as cleanly as if he had sliced it with his pocket-knife.

Except he hadn't.

Jim heard the cry of a wolf and the answering roar of a jaguar. From Blair's gasp, he guessed his partner had heard them too.

Blair leaned close until he could see what Jim still couldn't believe. He let out a shaky breath and wondered if he was going to throw up. "Mysterious times, man. Mysterious times."

"It's _not_ possible," Jim said stubbornly.

"Maybe it is," Blair answered. He felt the slightest touch of a rush of hyper-awareness and took a deep breath to keep from being drawn into whatever was pulling at his fledgling shamanic nature. "I can't explain it, but maybe we don't have to. Maybe it's just enough to know that this time we were greater than the sum of our parts. Jaga always talked about a united Sentinel and Guide as though there were something about them that was…beyond."

"Beyond?"

"Beyond the norm. Beyond what normal people could do or be or understand." Blair smiled. "Maybe a Sentinel and a Guide protecting their tribe get a few extra karmic favors."

"Maybe," Jim said doubtfully.

The wolf howled again.

"Don't even think about it," Jim snapped irritably. "I'm way too on edge for you creepy dreamwalking annoyances today!"

The jaguar snarled almost like a sharp retort.

And even though his heart was pounding a million beats a minute, Blair started to laugh. He knew he was onto something, but he also knew when to let the universe reveal itself in due time.

"It's not funny, Sandburg," Jim groused.

"No, you're right," Blair managed around a gulp. "It's a miracle."

Jim looked at him soberly, his imagination feeding him an image of the bomb blowing, of both their bodies ripped apart by fire and force, of a last searing pain the only thanks for their attempt to serve their people. Jim could have lost his Guide today. And Blair could have lost his Sentinel. But they were both alive and safe.

"You're right," he said with reverence. "It _is_ a miracle."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for those of you who were going to die on Monday, here's the conclusion of that nasty cliffhanger. This chapter ends more peacefully. There's a bit of delving into Hadji's backstory, and I've left it largely consistent with original JQ mythology – nothing that will surprise or shock anybody, I don't think.
> 
> Next week on Thursday I'll put up the last chapter of Arc 2 and we'll be onto Arc 3!
> 
> Enjoy!

When Hadji's heart at last slowed to the point of stopping, Jonny couldn't help the scream that broke from him. Out in the forest, the tawny eagle faded away into the smoke that was all that remained of the forest fire.

"Now Sentinel!" commanded Ndovu's voice in his mind.

Jonny threw himself into his powers with utter abandon.

-==OOO==-

The savannah was blue just as it had been the first time. Jonny looked around him, shaking his head.

"This is too strange for school," he said aloud, making himself smile at the quote that so annoyed his father, which was, of course, why he had adopted it as an occasional catchphrase. The other one, "Too tall for TV" mostly made Jessie and Hadji gang up on him with their literal senses of humor – which was also why he used it.

But thinking of Hadji reminded Jonny not to waste time. His brother was dying right this minute.

"Okay Ndovu. Now what?" Jonny called into the empty plains.

He felt an odd pulling sensation and suddenly the red fox sat before him, watching him.

"Come on! Give me a hint!" Jonny pleaded. "I'm not good at this stuff. Hadji's the one who…" He gulped. "What do I do?" he asked the fox.

The fox's ears swiveled upwards and Jonny followed them with his eyes, finally sighting a bird flying high above.

"That's Hadji!" he cried, knowing it was true by sheer instinct. "Hadji! _Hadji_!"

But the eagle continued to soar. To Jonny's horror, he realized it was heading upward into that strange vibrant blue. A blue that Jonny feared would never release him.

"Don't!" he shouted, running as if it would bring him closer to the bird. "Don't go that way! Please, Hadji!"

The fox was racing at Jonny's side, making a strange, almost-wailing keening noise. Jonny turned to it in a panic.

"Why doesn't he come back?"

"I can't."

Jonny actually ran _through_ a ghostly image of Hadji before his feet caught up to his surprise. He spun. His brother stood there – sort of. He looked as he always had, except he did not wear a turban here. His black hair, thick and bushy, spilled down his back freely, moving strangely in a world with no wind.

"I am sorry, my friend," Hadji said. "The guardian was too much for us, and even my psychic abilities could not protect us both from it for much longer. I had only one choice."

"To kill yourself?" Jonny demanded roughly.

"To save as many lives as possible," Hadji replied sadly. "Including yours, Jonny."

"You should have let it take me instead!"

" _Never_." The ferocity of his word actually seemed to darken the very sky for a moment. "Never, Jonny. You have known since we were children that I would give my life for yours. It is the fairest and most just outcome."

"How do you figure that?"

"You gave me a life, Jonny," Hadji's voice had returned to its gentle tones. "Even now, do you not understand? Let me show you."

"Hadji, wait!" Jonny tried, but the savannah was gone and Jonny felt himself drawn into a power that could only be his wonderful, powerful, foolish Guide.

Jonny found himself looking at a tiny Indian boy, his arms so thin they looked like the limbs of an insect against his strangely puffy torso. His poor feet were bare and bore dark, bleeding blisters. He was wrapped only in a part of a rag to try to cover himself and his hair was matted and wild. The boy was sitting dejectedly on a step, staring straight ahead with a blank, empty expression. He couldn't have been more than four years old.

When Jonny saw his eyes, saw _Hadji's_ eyes overflowing with such despair it had killed every spark of his personality, he felt as if his own heart had stopped.

"Hey! Get away from there!" bellowed an angry, deep voice. And then suddenly Hadji was lying on the ground with blood spilling from his cheek where he'd been struck by a man wearing a heavy ring. "Vermin! If I ever see you again, I'll set the dogs on you!"

Child-Hadji crawled unsteadily to his feet and stumbled away, too lost in himself to even cry at his ill treatment.

"Before Pasha," came the voice Jonny knew so well, "this was my life. And this was one of the good days."

"The _good_ days?" Jonny felt sick.

"Do not fear, my friend," Hadji's voice soothed.

The space around Jonny shifted and Hadji looked two or three years older. He had lost the strange puffiness and was now all stick-thin and gangly. He wore little more than a tiny turban and the simple waist-wrap, but his body was not so dangerously malnourished and his posture was not so defeated and desperate. He was standing next to a stall in a vibrant marketplace.

"How'd you do today, kiddo?" asked a jovial voice. Pasha the Peddler appeared and leaned on his table of items for sale.

"Very well," the young Hadji replied. Jonny now could see that he carried a small reed flute. Hadji dug into his turban and drew out a handful of coins. He held them out.

"Not bad! Not bad!" Pasha approved. To Jonny's surprise, he only took two from the boy's hand, leaving the vast majority for Hadji. "Come on in. There's lunch for you back here."

"Pasha was very kind," the grown Hadji's voice said. "He taught me the simple illusions I was able to ply on the streets of Calcutta. He never wanted a child underfoot, but he fed me when no one else would, and in lean times he gave me a place to sleep as well. He also taught me English as well as whatever else he knew, including how to defend myself."

"Yeah, but you're still out there begging!" Jonny protested. "Why didn't he take care of you?"

"In his way, he did, and for that I shall always be grateful," Hadji answered. "But what he had to give was not what either of us wanted for me."

The scene shifted again. This time, Jonny instantly recognized what he was seeing – it was the first time he'd ever met Hadji. He watched himself, much younger, fail to notice the assassin throwing a knife at his father and Hadji's quick reflexes saving Doctor Quest's life. He cringed as his younger self drew the wrong conclusion from the knife in Hadji's hand and pounced on Hadji, and cringed again when his poor technique was easily outdone and he landed in the dirt.

"You have always been rather impulsive," Hadji commented lightly.

"That was the first time I underestimated you," Jonny said fondly. "And the last, I hope."

"I think so," Hadji affirmed. "But now there is something you need to see."

The scene froze where Hadji was laughing at Jonny and the boys were moving to shake hands as friends. Hadji's face was split with amusement and his outstretched hand was open.

"Look closely, my brother," Hadji said.

Jonny peered at the face of the boy he had met that day and reeled back in surprise.

"Your eyes," he managed.

The ten-year-old Jonny would never have known his new twelve-year-old friend well enough to see it, but a seventeen-year-old Jonny knew Hadji's every look and expression. And there, buried in the dark eyes of that child holding out his hand was the same despairing sorrow he'd seen in Hadji at age four. It was like looking into a well so deep there was no bottom, except the water here was sorrow and hopelessness and unspeakable loneliness.

"Hadj…" Jonny trailed off. He suddenly wanted his brother here in corporeal form so he could grab his arms or hug him or _something_.

"You were not the first American to smile at me and shake my hand, Jonny Quest," Hadji said softly. "Not even the first family to take me as a guide into the mountains. I was grateful for your kindness, but I expected more of the same. I expected a payment and an abrupt farewell."

His voice went soft. "I expected to be left behind again."

"But you weren't!" Jonny insisted.

"I know."

Jonny expected the scene to change to another moment of Hadji's life, but it didn't. Instead, it faded until there was nothing but a swirl of color and motion. And yet within it Jonny could read the disbelief, the joy, the sheer vulnerability of Hadji's emotions connected to the memory associated with that simple fact. As long as he lived, Jonny knew he would never again see such unrestrained wonder and rejoicing anywhere in the world as Hadji showed him from when his father had put a hand on Hadji's shoulder and asked him to become a Quest. Jonny knew Hadji had never ever forgotten that feeling. That it was, perhaps, the defining moment of Hadji's lifetime.

"So you understand," Hadji's emotions swirled one last time before they vanished into the savannah and he was again a ghostly presence amidst the still grasses.

"Understand what?" Jonny was momentarily disoriented, and only the urgent head-butt of his fox brought his thoughts back to clarity.

"It is you who have given me this gift. When the choice was between you or I, I cannot allow you to come to harm, Jonny. I _cannot_."

"Oh, god, Hadji!" Jonny exclaimed. "Sometimes you are the stupidest person I know!"

That actually made the insubstantial Hadji flicker for a moment. When he stabilized, his face was more animated than before. "What do you mean?"

"Hadji, it's _over_! The fire is _gone_! You did it!" Jonny took a few steps closer. "I get that you wanted to sacrifice yourself rather than let me die in the guardian. And we can argue about it later. But the point is that you can go ahead and _stop_ dying now!"

Far, far above an eagle's cry sounded.

Jonny looked up and saw the tawny eagle, its glorious feathers somehow golden in spite of the strange blue cast to everything else in this place. It began to dive down towards the ground.

"Jonny," Hadji spoke, and for the first time he sounded unsure. "What happens now?"

"We…um…" Jonny lost his certainty. "You have a choice, I guess. You can die if you want to."

"Or?"

"Or," Jonny's voice was very small. "Or you can bond with me and I'll bring you back."

"A bond such as this is not a simple thing," Hadji said, oddly serene even as his hawk was racing towards the ground. "It lasts beyond even one lifetime, if your beliefs permit such a thing. If you carry me back to life as our friend Jim did for Blair, your eternal soul will be twined with mine for all the endless time a soul may live."

"I know," Jonny said, and he looked away. "It's up to you, Hadj. It's okay, whatever you decide."

To his horror, Jonny started to cry.

"Jonny…" Hadji sounded near to tears himself. "Do you…not want me anymore?"

"No!" Jonny bellowed with all the ache from his stomach. "But I can't ask you to give up your…immortal soul or whatever. Not for me."

"I am not the only foolish one here, my friend," Hadji said gently, warmly. And suddenly he was substantial enough that he could reach between them and touch the tears tracking down Jonny's face.

"Hadj?"

"I am losing nothing if I accept this bond with you, my brother. My Sentinel. For it gains me the only thing I have ever selfishly wanted for myself."

Jonny met Hadji's eyes with sudden hope. "And what's that?"

"This," Hadji said, stretching forward. He entwined one hand with Jonny's and dropped his head on his brother's shoulder, tucking his forehead against Jonny's neck. "This, for the rest of all my lives. If you will have me, Jonny Quest."

"Definitely," Jonny said almost sighing with overwhelming relief and joy. _This is how Hadji felt when he became a Quest_ , he realized. _Just like this_. He wrapped his free arm around Hadji's shoulders and pulled him close, tightening the grip of the hand that held Hadji's. "Without a doubt."

There was another cry as the tawny eagle reached them. Without separating, Hadji lifted his head enough to watch.

The fox yipped joyfully before bounding into the air. At the apogee of its leap, the eagle swept down from the sky and they met in a rush of light.

-==OOO==-

It took Simon two hours to extricate himself from Joel and actually get all the way up to the lodge. The fire crews had arrived in time to confirm that there wasn't much of a blaze left to put out, and Simon was able to name Joel as the person in charge of the pair of crime scenes while he went to "get reports" from his other field teams.

Joel saw right through it, of course, but he was too polite to call out his captain's manipulations in front of others.

Simon pulled up to the gate and found to his surprise that there was no secondary security check – the outer gate swung open and he had a clear shot in. Concerned, he hit the gas and sped down the bumpy road. Simon had been told that Jonny, Hadji, and Ngama were alone at the lodge, but he knew there should still be some kind of automated check for codewords. The inner gate should _not_ have been standing open.

At the lodge itself, Simon sprinted from his car towards the front door, only to almost pitch into the water fountain at the brightly-called "Hi Captain Banks!"

"What in the…?" he looked up, shading his eyes against the sun.

"Up here!"

Sitting on one of the balconies that overlooked the area were the three young men, all in a line on the edge of the balcony, their legs sticking through the railings and dangling freely.

"What are you doing? Why is the gate open? What was that…Never mind!" Simon yelled. "Stay there. I'll be right up."

"Door's open!" Jonny called with overly bright cheer.

Simon was sure he'd never sprinted up so many flights of stairs so fast. Indeed, the door to the room that belonged to Jonny and Hadji stood open and he moved straight through it to the balcony. Bandit barked in greeting before again leaning against his boy.

"Is everything all right?" Hadji asked first. "We have heard from the others, but…"

"Yes, it's all fine," Simon groused. "Why's the gate unlocked?"

"We have been monitoring it from here," Ngama said quietly. "And we did not wish to reengage the systems as it would offer an unnecessary delay for those who would undoubtedly be in a great hurry to reach us."

"There's something wrong in your logic, but I'm too damn tired to figure it out." Simon looked again at the three and made a snap decision. "I'm not having the rest of this conversation without a beer. Be right back."

Thankfully, his own room just down the hall had a well-stocked kitchen and he'd been there recently enough that the refrigerator's contents weren't spoiled. He grabbed a bottle and returned. Eyeing the way the boys were sitting, Simon instead opted for one of the porch chairs.

"Now, which of you wants to tell me why I had to try to explain a giant eagle like some kind of movie monster to Captain Taggart?"

"I will volunteer," Ngama offered. Simon scowled at the jubilant air that surrounded the three.

Ngama briefly outlined his own people's history and their legendary guardian. When he got to the part about Hadji's suggestion that they invoke the being, he coughed on his beer.

"You wanted to do _what_?"

"It was the most prudent of our options," Hadji said primly. "After all, fate aids the courageous."

"You Quests are going to give me ulcers on my ulcers," Simon grumbled.

"That is physically impossible," Ngama pointed out. "An ulcer is a hole. You cannot grow a hole inside a hole."

Simon made a noise between a sigh and a grumble and waved his hands for the story to continue.

But Ngama faltered. "So…we did it. And you saw the results of it."

"No offense, Ngama, but you're a terrible liar," Simon said. "Tell me the rest."

It was Hadji who spoke up. "The guardian proved to be dangerously draining to Jonny and myself, and it was necessary for me to make a strategic decision in order to ensure the greatest good."

Simon's stomach went cold. "Why do I have a feeling you're lucky to be alive, Hadji?"

The three exchanged guilty looks.

Simon let out a breath. "It's a Sentinel thing, isn't it?"

"We…bonded," Jonny said softly. "I brought him back."

Simon almost dropped his bottle. "You…he was dead and you…"

"Yes," Hadji affirmed.

Shaken, Simon set the beer down and passed a hand over his face. "My God."

The two Sentinels suddenly became aware of the smell of salt.

"I was there," Simon said after a few moments of quiet. "When Jim pulled Blair out of the fountain." He took a steadying breath, but he didn't look up. "He was dead. Dead and blue and cold. He hadn't been in the water long enough to bloat, but he was _dead_."

Jonny shifted to lean his shoulder against Hadji's hard enough to bruise. It was either that or fling his arms around him. Again.

"I'd never…I've lost friends before. Comes with the territory when you're a cop. But nothing, _nothing_ could have prepared me for that." Simon still didn't look up, as though he were no longer talking to the three young men before him. "And _Jim_. My God, I thought for sure we were about to lose him, too. I thought for sure he would follow Blair into death as surely as he'd followed him around in life."

At last Simon opened his eyes. "All my life, I will remember his pain. I can't imagine it. If I lost Daryl, maybe it would be like that."

"It would be," Jonny said quietly. "For you it would be. It would be like your heart torn out of your body along with everything you'd ever wanted or liked or felt good about. It would be like the whole world had died and the only one left behind was you."

"Yeah," Simon nodded, recalling that Jonny lived with a widower parent. "You're probably right."

"It will not happen to them again," Hadji spoke up suddenly. All eyes turned to him but he turned to face the horizon instead. "To Jim and Blair. Or to us," he nudged the shoulder still half-embedded in his own.

"What do you mean?" Ngama asked.

"What we have joined, even death cannot put asunder now," Hadji said slowly. "We cannot pass into death without the other, nor will we be spared it singly. If one dies, both must die. That is the blessing and the price of our bond."

"How do you know?" Simon asked.

Hadji smiled a little sadly. "My gifts have always carried with them a deep understanding of that which the literal-minded members of my family would call magic or mysticism. Name it what you will, I have walked the paths between the stars, the spaces where electrons go when they go into non-being. There is a way of Knowing that comes of that. So this I Know."

"God," Simon said with some mix of wonder and denial. Then, "But you're all right now?"

"Yes," Jonny said. "We both are. And we're going to be great."

"Good," Simon said. Then he pushed himself from his chair long enough to crouch beside the three. He put out one long arm to drape it across Jonny's and Hadji's shoulders, the other wrapping around Ngama. "I'm going to leave any yelling at you or asking of complicated metaphysical questions for the others."

He gave a pull so that he could very nearly hug all three of them.

"I don't ever want to see _any_ of you like I saw Blair that day. No parent should outlive his children, and if I understand how all this Sentinel stuff works, we're some kind of tribe now, right?"

"Yes," Hadji affirmed.

"So I'm telling you now as one of your tribal elders, none of you is _ever_ allowed to die on my watch," Simon said fiercely. "I can't say it to Blair because then he'd think he can get under my skin more than he already does. But you three…just…remember that. Okay?"

"We understand, Captain Banks," Jonny said sincerely.

"Good." Simon released them and returned to his chair. "And this is the only time I'm going to say this, Quest: call me Simon. When it's just us, anyway. In the station, you calling me Simon will mean all manner of chaos and insubordination though."

Jonny grinned. "Yes, sir!"

-==OOO==-

"So," Doctor Quest said later that evening. "How does it feel?"

Blair looked up from his seat under a young apple tree. It seemed like it had taken forever for everyone to explain their actions in the day's chaos. Jonny and Hadji were being somewhat recalcitrant about the whole Hadji-died-and-they-bonded-and-brought-him-back part of things, but Blair understood that part. Even as open to sharing as he was, there were some things you just _couldn't_ really express to someone who hadn't been through it themselves. All else considered, Benton and Race and Jessie had taken it fairly well to learn how close they'd been to losing their young Guide, but there had been a lot of dire looks that screamed "we'll talk about this later," too.

But now Benton was with Blair, not his sons, while the others did whatever was needed to work the strain of the last few days out of their systems. So Jim, Race, Jessie, and Simon were all out playing basketball. Hadji was in his room meditating, and Jonny had opted to stay nearby. Benton had been talking to Ngama, but now Blair spotted the youngest Sentinel climbing to the top of the small windmill where he could see for miles. _Hard to remember sometimes that he's only seventeen, same as Jonny_ , Blair thought to himself. _He's so much more than that somehow. They both are_.

"How does which part feel?" Blair asked.

Benton sat on the bench and stretched out his long legs. "Whichever part you're thinking about. SELF. The Soviet Sentinels. Acting for the DHS. Accepting your bond with your Sentinel. Pick one."

Blair blinked. "I didn't say anything to anybody about our bond."

"You didn't have to," Benton said. "Don't forget that I am a scientist just like you. I know how to observe."

"Yeah, so what did you observe, Doctor?" Blair smiled.

"First, I have never seen you and Jim so comfortable with one another," Benton held up his fingers as he ticked off the points. "Second, you clearly gained a certain kind of enlightenment when you helped guide Jonny to recovering his senses, which signifies some form of shift in your own understanding of your role as Guide. Thirdly, there was not so much of a twitch of discomfort from either you or Jim when you described your own experiences on the mountain today. And finally, you both _smiled_ when Jonny and Hadji told about their own bond, whereas previously neither of you were so open about that particular topic. Simple, really."

"Glad you think so," Blair said. He leaned back against the strong tree. "I feel…okay. A little weird, but who _doesn't_ feel weird today?" he smiled.

"True," Benton nodded. Then, with a sharp glance, "You didn't mind accepting the DHS authority today?"

"Mind? No, not really. I mean, it wasn't what I _ever_ thought I'd be doing. I bet my mom would freak if she knew I was part of The Man _and_ The Pigs at the same time, you know? But…it gave me a chance to help. We would never have known where to find the two bombs we did diffuse if we hadn't located him so fast. And we couldn't have done that without the federal warrant."

Blair sighed. "Not too fond of threatening the guy, though. He was just…he needed help and I scared him."

"He confessed to Detectives Brown and Rafe that he was angry about all the young people who he believes wronged him. Mainly, it seems, by simply existing. A barista at the coffee shop corrected him when he paid incorrectly. There was something about someone at the department store talking down to him or some such. And a recent graduate right out of Rainier was given a position he had coveted." Benton shook his head. "I guess he lost his brother a few weeks ago to a road accident and that set off this chain of psychological behaviors."

"Yeah, he needed help. He was a guy on the edge, you know? And I threatened him into confessing."

"You saved countless lives that way," Benton reminded him. "Including possibly our own and that of your Sentinel."

"Yeah, I know." Blair kicked the dirt. "Still feels gross."

"I'm glad."

"You're…what?" he looked up, frowning in confusion.

Benton smiled at him. "If you'd enjoyed threatening the man with unconstitutional procedures, I would have been very concerned. But I knew you would never take the power of SELF or its connections lightly, nor would you ever misuse it."

"No way, man."

"But I can tell something more troubles you."

"Using that psych degree again?" Blair teased.

"No," Benton shook his head. "Call it a father's instinct."

Blair felt his heart thump oddly. "Well, yeah. It's…yeah. Hard to explain."

"Don't explain," Benton advised. "Just speak it."

"It's just…Hadji's been a Guide for a matter of months and he already seems to know more about some of this weird mystical stuff than I do, and I've been at it for years. What kind of Guide am I to Jim if I'm getting schooled by a kid not even in college yet?"

"You are a fine Guide to Jim and any Sentinel who turns to you," Benton said.

"But Incacha – Jim's shaman – he passed the way of the shaman to me. And…I'm really not rocking the title, you know?"

"Blair, what is the purpose of a Guide?" Benton asked. "Besides as companion to a Sentinel, I mean."

"I guess…a Guide is one who carries the great spiritual powers of the shaman, then, who can pass this knowledge and wisdom down to the tribe that the Sentinel protects to nurture and support them. Like Ivan. She is a Guide for the Sentinels, so she's been guarding and teaching the knowledge of the Sentinels' history and looking out for them. Sort of helping shape their future."

"Is it perhaps true that not all Guides may be all things for all people?" Benton pressed. "Hadji may have the deeper spiritual powers, but it is not in his nature to actually attempt to correct the actions of others. He will advise, but never actively lead."

"Yeah, I can see that," Blair admitted.

"And you are one of the finest teachers I have ever known," Benton said. At Blair's astonishment, he nodded solemnly. "Yes, _you_ , Blair Sandburg. If there is a voice that will pass wisdom onto those who need it, it is you who will bring understanding and passion to the minds you open."

Blair gulped at the unexpected wash of emotion that swept over him. "Thank you, Benton. That…really means a lot."

To his surprise, Benton put an arm over his shoulders to give him a half-hug. "You're just what those kids need, Blair. Don't ever doubt it. Not just at Rainier, but right here." He rose to go.

But he paused long enough to say lightly, "I'm proud of you, Blair. No friend or father could be prouder."

Blair's heart hammered in his chest with pleased happiness, but only for a moment. Then something came together with something else in his mind and forged a connection. While Benton moved to the increasingly rowdy basketball game, Blair bounced to his feet and headed to the windmill.

"Ngama?" he called.

Ngama glanced down before descending a few yards so he would not have to shout to be heard by a non-Sentinel. "Yes, Doctor Sandburg?"

"I know we've been over that 'doctor' stuff between friends, man," Blair complained as the young Sentinel continued his climb to meet him on the ground. Then, more seriously, "You came to Cascade to find me, right?"

"Yes, sir," Ngama said, lifting his head.

"To study at Rainier?"

"Yes, sir."

"And do you still want that?"

Ngama swallowed thickly. "More than ever. I…feel I belong here."

"How so?" Blair asked.

"The wind here…it sings to me. The earth feels quiet and warm under my feet. At home, I may track the movements of animals or the coming weather, but it is shallow, empty. This place, it is music." Ngama might have squirmed except it was not in his character. "If that sounds strange, I apologize."

"No," Blair rushed to assure him. "Not to me, anyway. Hadji always says we are where we are meant to be. And I think that means you are meant to be here."

"I hope so. But my father, he will not…" Ngama trailed off.

"Not be supportive? Not help you? Not pay for school?"

"Not even remotely, any of them," he said with a grim smile.

"Well, that's okay," Blair said with a real smile. "See, there's this whole new Foundation pouring money into a couple of scholarship funds, and since it's a deciding committee of one, _me_ , and I don't have a lot of applicants, I think we can find a way…"

-==OOO==-

Above, Jonny ducked back into the room. "Yeah, everybody's okay. Blair's even talking to Ngama about getting him into Rainier next year with one of dad's SELF scholarships."

"That is good to hear," Hadji said without opening his eyes from his seated spot on the meditation rugs before their wall of windows.

Jonny coughed awkwardly. "Um, Hadji?"

"Yes?"

"You're...you're really okay, right?"

At this Hadji looked up. "Yes, Jonny. Thanks to you, I am fine."

"Because Jim told me that Blair got sick after they bonded," Jonny said all in a rush, "and I don't want you to get sick just because we weren't paying attention."

"Blair had also been dead in a quantity of unsanitary water for several hours before his Sentinel came to call him from the void," Hadji pointed out gently.

"Is that why it was different for us?" Jonny asked.

"Different?"

"There seemed to be a lot...more to it." Jonny gestured vaguely, hoping Hadji could interpret his meaning.

"Ah." At that, his Guide smiled. "You must recall, not only was I still at the peak of my strength, having, in fact, not been dead for several hours, but in addition, I am quite comfortable with that particular plane of existence. You should not be surprised that manipulating it came easily to me even past the point of life. I only hope you are not troubled that I took what I believed to be my last opportunity to 'show off,' you might say, to ensure there was an important truth shared with you before it was too late."

"No, I'm not," Jonny said softly. He shifted from one foot to the other before plopping down on the carpet beside Hadji. "Just...do me a favor, okay?"

"Anything." The word was warm and sincere and they both heard the promise in it.

"Don't ever die on me again. Okay? Seriously." Jonny leaned his head on his brother's shoulder and let out a shaky breath.

"You have my word," Hadji answered gently. "As I said, it no longer matters. Neither of us may pass beyond this world without the other now. We are one."

"So you're mine, Hadj?" Jonny looked at his brother as if he'd never seen him before.

"I think, Jonny, it has always been so. We were merely ignorant of it until now."

"Huh." Jonny's hearing slipped a little from his control and fixed itself on Hadji's heartbeat. Something about that even, steady pulse made all the harsh edges of the world around him soften a little. "Works for me."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the last chapter of Arc 2. Be on the lookout for Arc 3 next Wednesday.
> 
> The quote at the end of the chapter is one I became familiar with through the musical piece "Where There Is Light In The Soul" for women's voices by Elizabeth Alexander. I highly recommend you look it up on YouTube. It's a lovely setting of some lovely words.
> 
> See you next week for the adventure to continue in some new and exciting directions. Some of you have made guesses. I can't wait to see what you think of all that is to come.
> 
> Enjoy!

Simon was packing up his bag, grateful that Friday had come at last. It had been a brutal week with no end to the reports and explanations needed for the Stratton case. Even without giant Sentinel-Guide-energy-manifestations-of-who-only-knew-what up in the mountains, there were still plenty of difficult things to have to rationalize. At least in that Simon had had an ally – Blair Sandburg. The "consultant" to the department had flexed his new DHS muscle with superb talent, easing the way any time Simon found himself hard-pressed to come up with a plausible answer to the unanswerable. How had Jim and Blair located their bomb? Clearly the Quests had done something with satellites and that information was classified. How had the fire in the northeast been put out before any of the local fire crews had arrived? Agent Fritz was prepared to swear that he had mobilized "other resources."

Simon glanced out into the bullpen. Blair wasn't there – he'd also had to handle catching up with his classes at Rainier and providing a plausible excuse on that side as well. But again, the SELF excuse was still holding water. In the one interview allowed by Agent Fritz, the local news had painted an oddly positive picture of the whole situation, somehow insinuating simultaneously that there was more to SELF than anyone would admit, but also that its careful application of its "specializations" had been largely responsible for saving countless lives. Blair hadn't been named specifically; in fact, the press had been handled by Benton Quest directly. But that all served to reinforce the building consensus that Blair was ultimately on the side of the angels, and anything fishy that had been in the news previously clearly had been a mean-spirited attack based on partial or inaccurate information.

_All in all_ , Simon considered, _if I didn't know which way to look, I'd be dizzy with the spin being expertly employed all around the whole situation. Never thought I'd be so glad for those interfering Feds_.

And he wasn't the only one. The entire department seemed to have turned on its heads when it came to Blair. Who could have known that five minutes of well-executed authority would change the timbre of the rumor-mill in Sandburg's favor? There were still more questions and speculations than answers, but now they were tinged with acceptance. If Sandburg couldn't talk openly about his work, well, that was all right then. He was being viewed more like a brother in blue than an outsider now. Identifying a potential terrorist, mobilizing federal resources without federal interference, and disarming a bomb would do that for one's reputation.

Simon still didn't understand what exactly had gone on in those woods, though. Neither Ellison nor Sandburg would say more than they already had during the big debrief on the day in question at the lodge. When asked, Blair had obfuscated like a master, saying a whole lot of nothing, and Jim had feigned deafness. Simon understood that they couldn't exactly explain it, but he still wanted to know what had happened.

_Maybe this weekend I'll figure it out_ , Simon thought. He'd been invited up to the lodge for some time to relax and also dig himself a little deeper into this other world into which he'd fallen. And if he was still slightly unnerved by the Sentinel-Guide stuff, he was not going to say no to a weekend with his friends in the most exclusive spot in the Pacific Northwest.

There was a knock on his door-frame. "Dad?"

Simon looked up in surprise. He'd thought Daryl had gone home an hour ago. "Come in, son."

Daryl shut the door behind him before standing across from the desk. There was something in his posture that was unfamiliar. It took Simon a moment to identify it – Daryl was standing at attention.

"What's on your mind?" he asked cautiously, sitting a little taller himself.

"I have to tell you something," Daryl said, only a hint of nervousness leaking through. "I…there's something I didn't tell you."

Simon raised an eyebrow and waited.

"I…well, I was accepted to Rainier University."

"You what!? When?"

"Last spring," Daryl answered. "Blair helped me apply last winter." At the astonishment in his father's face, he smiled. "Blair talked me into keeping my options open, and he promised to keep it a secret. But he also wrote me a letter of recommendation and read over my essay and everything. When I got the acceptance letter, he talked me into deferring for a term instead of forfeiting my spot."

_There's another one I owe the kid_ , Simon thought. He cleared his throat. "So…why are you telling me this now?"

"Well, I was talking to Jim and…I think I want to enroll for the upcoming spring term."

Simon glanced out his window to where Ellison sat at his desk, ostensibly doing paperwork. He glanced up long enough to wink at his boss.

Simon turned back to Daryl and asked neutrally, to keep from rejoicing, "Oh, really?"

"Yeah," Daryl said, standing a little straighter. "I still want to go to the Academy someday, dad. I think I want to do this more than ever." He took a breath. "But I want to know more before I do. Jim and Blair thought I could get a criminal justice degree, maybe. And after watching Doctor Quest and Jessie and all of them, I kind of want to look into computer science, too. Rainier has a Digital Forensic Science program and Blair thought maybe Doctor Quest might teach me a little."

"I'm sure he would," Simon said.

Daryl took strength from his father's reaction and added, "And Blair said I should take one of his classes too – he'll be teaching an introduction to anthropology and he thought I might learn something in it that would help. He says I can do a criminal justice major and a computer science minor but I should also spread out and learn as much as I can about the world so I'm ready to handle whatever comes at me."

"He's right about that," Simon agreed. "There's so much out there that you can do and you'll get the chance to explore your options…"

"No," Daryl interrupted. "I want to be a cop, dad. I just want to be the best cop I can be."

"Why?" Simon asked. And he realized he should ask a different question if he didn't want to rehash all the same old ground. So he changed his focus. "Why is it so important to you to skip the Academy for now so you can be a cop later? What changed your mind?"

Daryl shifted his weight before he met his father's eyes with conviction. "I've been around dangerous stuff before, dad. You know that I've seen it up close what being a cop is like."

Simon winced thinking of the times his son's life had been at risk.

Daryl plowed on. "There's been a lot of times you got between me and something bad. Or Jim did. Or Blair. And you all, you stand between the bad thing waiting to happen and the good people it will happen to." He lifted his chin proudly. "When there were bombs up in the mountains, you guys ran _towards_ them. Blair and Jim stood there with one counting down to one second. Because you all wanted to keep the fire from getting to anyone else."

Simon nodded.

"That's where I want to be, dad. I want to look out for people. I want to be the one who holds the fire back so nobody else has to go into a building like Jonny and Hadji and Ngama did. And I know now that there's ways to do it that aren't all about shooting people and car chases and stuff. Jessie and Doctor Quest saved a lot of people by looking stuff up. I want to do that. I want to help in any way I can."

He leaned forward with his hands on the desk, looking so like a younger and unjaded Jim Ellison that Simon wondered if he'd been taking lessons.

"Jessie said her dad protects Doctor Quest, but Doctor Quest protects people too. Like Blair does with whatever he's doing." He paused. "And I still don't know all of it, but I _will_ figure it out," he vowed. "And when I do, I want to be able to help them. And this is how I can do that. I can go learn enough to be right there with them next time."

"Sounds like you've got your mind all made up," Simon commented.

"Yes, I do, dad." Daryl's assuredness faltered. "So…I know I don't need your permission, but…can you be okay with this? Can you, you know, get behind me on this?"

Simon owed his son an honest consideration. He still wasn't thrilled with the idea of his son in the line of fire or being a cop. But the path that Daryl wanted wasn't necessarily as bad as he'd thought. If Daryl was thinking about approaching what he wanted by emulating Doctor Quest, well, there wasn't much better in the way of a mentor out there for him. And Simon felt pretty sure Benton would be willing to let the kid into a few of his projects. Forensic computer science was a lot safer an option than walking a beat, and it would be easier on Daryl, too. And, then, of course, Daryl would have gotten a full college degree as well. _God bless Sandburg_ , he thought gratefully.

When he looked up, it was with honest pride. "Yes, Daryl. I can definitely get behind this. I think working with Doctor Quest and going for that computer science stuff would be a real asset to protecting people." He gave his son a heartfelt smile. "I'm really proud of you."

Daryl grinned. "Thanks dad." He moved around the desk and grabbed his father in a hug before he could even get all the way out of his chair. "Thanks for believing in me."

"Not a problem," Simon said roughly, holding his son tight as he straightened up. "I will always believe in you, son. And I'll always be there for you."

Simon's eyes trailed over Daryl's head and out into the bullpen. Jim was watching them and when he caught Simon's eye, he nodded once firmly. And Simon understood Jim's unspoken promise to look out for him, to keep an eye on wherever Daryl might go, and that Benton would probably be watching closely, too. That the whole of SELF would throw their support behind Daryl just as Simon had given it to Jim and Blair all along. That they were a tribe and a tribe takes care of its own.

-==OOO==-

The group gathered at the lodge had just finished dinner when Benton's phone beeped. He jumped up and strode into the greatroom from the dining hall, calling, "Race? Jim? Blair? It's Ivan."

Simon, Jessie, Hadji, and Jonny exchanged ruefully amused glances. Apparently that meant _they_ were stuck with cleanup. After they'd dropped Ngama at the airport to meet his father in Maui before heading home, they'd cleared out any remaining DHS agents from the lodge itself, though not the guards on the outer perimeter, because they'd wanted some real privacy for a while. So there was no one else around on whom to foist the dishes and leftovers.

"On the plus side," Jonny said cheerfully, "the big pressure washer looks fun to use!"

"Heaven preserve us," Simon implored.

Out in the greatroom, Benton plugged his phone into the massive big-screen TV, turning it into a full two-way communication device with only a few setting adjustments. In moments, the faces of Ivanna, Dmitri, and Dominik met them.

"Good morning," Benton said politely. "It's rather early where you are."

"It is _very_ early where we are," Dominik nodded with a smile. "But as our decision was made last night, we did not wish to wait to inform you."

All four Americans held their breaths. They had left their Russian friends with the understanding that any and all options were open and they should be in contact when they knew what they wanted. Privately, Benton and Jim and Blair and Race were all hoping at least a few of the Fokino Sentinels would be willing to come to Cascade. Besides beginning in what they had formed SELF to do, they wanted to be able to permanently dismiss the DHS agents at the lodge location and replace them with the people they wanted to own it completely.

Dominik spoke. "Colonel Barkov has been commissioned to take a very old, almost defunct Soviet ship and use it to attempt to employ some 'new' techniques for those Sentinels who are of the proper age and usefulness to utilize it. He will be taking a complement of 70 into the Pacific for the exercise. Sentinels and associated civilians as the only crew, all on a volunteer basis. Without pay, of course. The General who oversees Sentinel postings was fairly open to the mission after that caveat was confirmed."

Dmitri grimaced. "To be frank, we are not expected to survive. Many of those who will be joining the crew are those Sentinels whose senses problems make them almost beyond help. They have already contributed genetic materials, so their only possible future would be as part of a negotiation, and for _some_ reason," he feigned confusion, "our government has paused in their dealings of Sentinel exchanges."

"So your country gets to off-load a large number of Sentinels without arousing any suspicions on the parts of your enemies or allies, for just the cost of the derelict ship they're sending you on?" Race asked.

Dmitri nodded. "And if we do happen to come upon a way to restore ourselves, of course, we would be welcomed back."

"Does this mean you're coming _here_?" Blair asked eagerly.

"Yes," Ivanna said. "Dominik will remain here and we will maintain contact with him, not only to pass what we learn onto others, but to aid us in resuming our own posts for those who choose to return to them." She tipped her head. "It is possible we will fall in love with your Cascade, gentlemen, but already we love our homeland. We wish always to have a way to return to the people we have protected for so long."

"I understand," Jim nodded sincerely.

"But we have one remaining condition," she continued. With a glance to Dominik and Dmitri, Ivan faced the four men unflinchingly. "Doctor Quest, while we appreciate all you have done and will do for us, we will not be your little army."

"I never suggested that!" he protested.

"No, you did not," she nodded, "but others may see it that way. Accordingly, as with our own traditions, we will establish a Council to lead and govern us. You may be a member of it, but you will not solely determine our future. Your SELF organization may belong to yourself and to Professor Guide Blair, but it is not synonymous with our people, not yet. Perhaps one day."

"I completely support this idea," Benton said genuinely. "I think it's the best way to ensure you all have the option to choose your own destiny. SELF should be aligned to what _you_ want, not the other way around."

"Who will be on the Council?" Race asked.

"Dmitri and myself, Doctor Quest, plus perhaps one or two others who will be joining us on the ship," Ivan answered. "And we want you as well, Sentinel Ellison. And Blair, of course."

Dmitri looked straight to Jim. "You will be the leader of the Council, though we all will vote and discuss. That is your right."

"As is ours," Ivan nodded to Blair, "to choose not to be ruled by you."

"What, a Guide _not_ listening to his Sentinel?" Jim said wryly, slinging an arm around Blair's neck. "Totally unheard of."

In the background, Jonny's bright laugh echoed in the kitchen.

"Is there anything else you would like to arrange?" Benton asked.

"Not at this time," Ivan said with a serene smile. "We have several months to plan our excursion in addition to close to three weeks on the sea to come up with ideas, however."

"I welcome them all," Benton said sincerely. The three Sentinels nodded at all the signs that he was telling the truth.

"Then we shall talk some more soon," Ivan said. Her eyes fell on Jim and Blair. "Guard our territory well, Sentinel. Lead its people with wisdom, Guide."

Jim didn't know he was going to answer until he did. "The watch is mine until you come to share it, Tribe Mother and Brother Sentinel."

Blair grinned brightly even as his own response came to him. "The ancient ways will be preserved in honor until we meet again to seek new wisdom together."

The Russians ended the call.

Jim looked wonderingly at Blair who shrugged. "Mysterious times, man," was all he said.

Then came a loud crash from the kitchen area. Jim was already running, Race on his heels and Benton just behind him. Blair didn't need to be a Sentinel to hear Jonny loudly proclaiming at the top of his lungs that it "wasn't his fault" and "nothing big got broken anyway" over Jessie cackling like mad. Hadji appeared a moment later, one whole sleeve dripping wet and visibly fighting not to laugh.

"A dog that walks around will find a stick," he recited solemnly even as his face split into a grin. "And Jonny left to himself will find trouble in the most unexpected ways."

"Nobody's hurt, though, right?" Blair asked just in case.

"Oh no," Hadji shook his head. "Although Captain Banks will need to change his shirt. As do I." He nodded politely before heading up the stairs. A moment later, Simon emerged grumbling to himself and with a chest covered in lime green suds. He, too, headed upstairs, stomping with irritation.

"It's not really his color, is it, Chief?" Jim asked, sidling up to Blair with a grin.

"Oh, I don't know. I think the whole electric-shamrock-exploded look could really take off!" he said gleefully.

"I can still hear you!" Simon roared, leaning over the railing. A huge dollop of suds fell and splashed on the floor a story below.

Blair and Jim exchanged glances and then started to laugh. They laughed long enough for Jonny and Jessie to make it out of the kitchen with their respective fathers. Jessie was still giggling, and the absolutely murderous look on Jonny's face set them off again.

However, even as they laughed, Blair noticed Jonny tracking Hadji with his senses, his head tipped as he listened to his Guide move about upstairs. And when Blair finally roused himself enough to go grab a rag to clean up Simon's last green plop, he knew even from the other room that Jim was listening to him, too.

_A whole life of wandering and teaching and talking and sharing, and it turns out all I wanted was to be heard by one person – the right one person_ , he thought to himself.

It must have looked so unfair from the outside, Blair considered. Sure, his Sentinel was the big strong one, swooping in like an old-time hero to kick butt and save the day. This was a man who had given him a home when he had none, loaned him money when he was strapped for cash, supported him up against an entire world willing to ridicule him. For a man who was not considered to be particularly soft, that looked like a lot of unearned generosity. It had even bothered Blair for a while – before he knew any better.

But then Blair had seen through Jim's eyes for a time, had connected with him in that endless profundity that defied explanation. And what he knew now changed his understanding. From Blair's perspective, Jim had given him everything – home, a purpose, his holy grail, a best friend, security – but Jim's view was the opposite. From Jim's perspective, Blair had brought immeasurable things to his life, too. And not just the control over the senses, or even the incalculable relief of knowing he wasn't, in fact, going insane. No, Blair had given Jim some of the first honest kindness and the first unconditional admiration and enthusiasm and affection of his life. Blair had dashed into Jim's life with all his color and joy and openness and undying curiosity and he had lit it up like Technicolor. As far as Jim was concerned, giving him a place to live and backing him up when he needed it was the very least he could do to repay the fact that his life now contained someone who was constant, someone whose first response was neither fear nor defensiveness, but trust and hope and loyalty. Jim might have given Blair everything he needed for his life, but Blair had given Jim everything he needed to keep living.

What they contributed was totally different, of course. And to those who didn't know how to see, it would have been easy to assume that Jim was being taken for a ride by the noisy free-loader who'd never paid rent on time and had less credibility than he had respectability, but Jim knew – and Blair did, too – that they failed to truly understand. A partnership wasn't made of two people who gave exactly fifty-percent in every single thing, meeting in the middle with unrelenting dedication to bean-counting their equality. It was made by complimentary balance, one carrying the weight that was too much for the other, and one lifting the burden as only they could. Sentinels and Guides were, by necessity, not perfectly equal. They had different gifts, different abilities, different interests, different functions. But they were still binary, still a pair in harmony. And between them, there was nothing they could not accomplish.

And in that harmony, both Sentinel and Guide could find everything they had ever wanted.

When Blair returned to the room, he just caught the end of the conversation as Hadji and Simon came back downstairs.

"So we'll have 70 Sentinels here?" Jessie asked. "Are we ready for it?"

"Not right now," Benton shook his head. "But by the time they get here, we will be." He looked around. "I'll be counting on all of you to help make this place what it needs to be."

"Of course we'll help!" Jonny said brightly.

"Jim?" Race turned to him. "You okay with this?"

"You know what," Jim said, glancing at his Guide, "I really am. I wasn't sure before we met them, but now the idea of having a whole bunch of Sentinels out here actually seems right. Like it's the way it's supposed to be." And if anyone in the room marveled at the famously stoic and skeptical Jim Ellison openly and without apparent discomfort accepting something as intangible as that, no one said anything.

"I'm glad to hear it," Benton said sincerely. "I really am."

"In other news," Blair's face was alight with a very happy grin, "I pulled some strings so I could deliver these in person."

"What are they?" Jim asked, looking at the three fat envelopes he had drawn from his ever-present backpack.

Blair's grin only widened as he handed one envelope each to Jessie, Jonny, and Hadji. He looked up to catch the eye of Benton and gave a very slight nod. Benton suddenly grinned, too, and slapped Race on the shoulder.

"You never tell me anything!" his bodyguard complained even as he was smiling cautiously.

"For good reason," Benton replied. "You like surprises. Don't even pretend otherwise."

Meanwhile, the three recipients of the envelopes were ignoring their fathers and friends in a unified single-minded attempt to get through the thick paper. Almost simultaneously, they spilled the contents into waiting hands, eyes rushing over the pages within. As one, they drew in a deep, amazed breath.

Blair had never seen three kids respond quite the way they did. He'd seen shouting, crying, dancing, stupefied shock, and gloating.

Jessie, Jonny, and Hadji all looked up at one another, turning their precious letters around so each could ensure the other two had the same fantastic news. They said nothing aloud, but it was clear all three were anxious until they knew they shared the same fate.

"Congratulations, Race," Benton squeezed the hand he'd left on Race's arm. "You are now the proud father of one – or is it three? – accepted students for next semester at Rainier University."

Then the spell broke and the trio reacted more like Blair had expected. Jonny grinned and pumped his fist triumphantly. "YEAH!" he cheered loudly, swinging an arm around Hadji's shoulders. "This is going to be AWESOME!" Jessie began her own victory dance, pulling the boys into motion with her until the three were bouncing and stamping and laughing. They made one pass around the room before reaching out to haul the adults with them.

Even Jim found himself in some sort of spinning celebration, and truth be told, he didn't resist it too much. The laughter echoing from the rafters of the lodge was too wonderful a sound to spoil.

When they at last slowed, Jessie proudly showing her father her acceptance letter while Hadji handed his to Benton and Jim swiped Jonny's to inspect it himself before passing it to Simon after the captain caught his breath, Blair rocked on his feet happily. "It's going to be out of this world having the three of you on campus full-time," he said, still smiling.

"Are you teaching in the spring?" Jessie wanted to know.

"Yup, I've agreed to take an Anthro 101 and a few upper-level classes." He smiled wickedly. "As good as you are, only Hadji gets a pass from the department on the 101, though. You two have some catching up to do."

"Why does Hadji get a pass?" Jim wanted to know.

"Because Hadji's been amassing credits as my assistant for years," Benton explained. "I believe he only lacks a single year's worth of study at Rainier before he can claim his degree."

"That may be true," Hadji tipped his head respectfully, "but I shall not be so quick to miss out on my opportunities to learn. I may avail myself of multiple majors to round out my understanding and thus increase the duration of my undergraduate experience."

"Whew!" Simon spoke up at last, still trying to hide the smile that had broken out the moment he'd been pulled into the celebration. "Gonna set some kind of record, kid?"

Jonny's head snapped up. "That's an interesting point." He looked over at Jessie with an almost predatory smile. "What do you say, Ace? Three?"

"Two and a half and you're on!" she proclaimed, holding out a hand and tossing her hair.

"Deal!" Jonny shook on it with her.

"Oh, god, you gave them ideas," Race rubbed a hand over his face.

Hadji's face mirrored Race's for somewhat-amused despair. "May the fates deliver us," he said fervently. Then, at the almost manic glee of Jonny and Jessie, he gave up all pretense and simply banged his head on the nearest hard surface – one of the solid support beams scattered through the room.

"I'm missing something," Simon shook his head.

"Chief, how long did it take you to get your undergraduate degree?" Jim asked.

"Uh…technically two years," Blair considered, "but I'd already started on my graduate classes by then."

"Maybe we should…" Jessie began.

"No," Race crossed his arms. "You'll be _way_ too busy with the SELF stuff to try to beat Blair at his own game on top of it. Stick to your already completely unreasonable bet."

"I can't _believe_ you two just bet to finish college in almost half the time it normally takes," Jim shook his head ruefully. "I mean, for Einstein over there, it was one thing, but…" He gave up and shrugged helplessly.

"The only thing worse than this incredibly unwise wager is the completely reckless things they'll do to ensure they keep it," Hadji moaned. "Already I can envision the nights before finals. You wouldn't think studying could be competitive, but with these two around, it is!" He leaned in to bang his forehead on the beam again.

Jonny was at his side in a flash and intercepted the blow, turning his brother away. "Don't do that," he chided with a small smile. "It's not good for your turban." The care and gentleness in his voice was unmistakable, even if he did try to hide it with humor.

"Just make me one promise," Benton looked at his son and Jessie firmly. "If Hadji or Blair decide you're working too hard, promise me you'll cut back. I don't want anybody burning out, and you'll be busy enough without trying to outdo one another."

"We promise," Jessie said promptly. Jonny looked less likely to acquiesce until his Guide elbowed him in the side and he reluctantly echoed the vow.

"Wait, you'll be starting at Rainier in the spring? _This_ spring?" Simon asked. As realization struck, he felt a powerful desire to imitate Hadji and bang his own head into a wall.

"Yeah, why?"

"That's when Daryl starts. He deferred for a semester but now he's decided to pursue a degree of his own," Simon explained.

"You mean Daryl is going to be in Sandburg's class _with_ these two?" Jim's eyes got wide.

Blair darted to his fellow Guide and gripped his shoulder. "Hadji, you have _got_ to take that class!" he said desperately.

"Didn't you just say he could pass ahead of it?" Race asked, smirking.

"No! Never mind! I _need_ you in that class to save me from _them_!"

"It's not just Sandburg's class I'm worried about," Jim said with a broad grin. "I'm not sure the whole of Rainier can cope with the combined powers of the Sandburg Zone, Jessie and Jonny's competitiveness, and Daryl's propensity to get into trouble. And _you_ ," he pointed at Hadji, "you _pretend_ to be a calming influence, but we all know you're just a dark horse in the same race. You're as bad as the rest of them!"

Hadji smiled serenely. "Like the poet said, 'Into every life some rain must fall.' Cascade is well-accustomed to rain already, is it not? I believe the university can handle the likes of us."

"Yeah, but can _we_?" Simon looked to the other adults in the room, dubiously including Blair in the glance.

"We better," Race said with a smile of his own. "Because like weeds after a storm, that rain is going to end with these guys taking over the ground."

"Did you just call us _weeds_ , dad?" Jessie glared, even if she couldn't keep the laughter from her eyes.

"I prefer to think of us as saplings," Jonny said then, his voice oddly serious. "And the time really has come for us to grow into our own." He glanced to his brother. "Together, of course."

"Together," Hadji echoed.

Jonny still had an arm around his Guide, so Jessie moved to his other side and took his free hand. Blair linked an arm with Hadji on his side before turning to the remaining men.

"You guys in?"

Jim felt it. Looking at the three kids and his own Guide, he could feel the path to the future unfurling at their feet. He didn't need to be a Sentinel, didn't need those odd hints and visions, to know where he stood in relation to that.

"Count on it," Jim nodded. He crossed the distance to where he could link arms with Blair. Then he raised an eyebrow to the remaining three. "Coming?"

Race grinned and grabbed Jessie's hand, slinging an arm around Benton as well. Only Simon didn't move right away. He looked at the mostly complete circle, lacking only himself. And there was a place for him in it, literally and figuratively. He didn't share the easy comfort that seemed to define the others, and he knew his reputation as a hard, cold captain was about to be ruined forever, but right then, he didn't care.

Simon completed the circle, putting an arm around Jim's shoulders and allowing Benton to wrap a hand around his arm warmly.

"So who's next?" Jessie asked. She looked from one face to another in their ever-expanding circle and felt a deep contentment settle inside. Family, friends, tribe – no word could capture it enough, really.

"Oh, I don't think we're going to go much longer without bringing Joel in," Blair said lightly. "It's kind of way past time."

"Don't forget Ngama," Jonny said. "He'll be here soon, too, and he wants to be part of this."

"And somebody will have to tell Daryl eventually," Simon put in quietly, "but _only_ if it keeps him out of trouble. I'd rather he not be anywhere _near_ all this craziness, but even I know how unlikely that is if he's going to be hanging out with you. I'd like to think keeping him informed might help prevent him from wandering into trouble on his own."

Jim looked around and thought about the new Sentinels and the people like Ivan the Terrible that were on their way to Cascade even now. What had Jonny said? They were saplings?

As if reading his mind, Benton spoke. "If this is the root of the tree to grow, I think it's going to be good and strong." He smiled around the circle. "A tree this big becomes a home to countless creatures that take shelter in its branches. I'm honored to be a part of that home for us and for those who will come after us."

"A tree of this strength will endure even the worst fire," Hadji said softly. "And from it will come the new growth that will restore a damaged land."

"You said it, my brother," Blair said, knocking their shoulders together. Then he looked up and read the words on the little plaque they had hung over the fireplace. It was a Chinese proverb of indeterminate source, and when they had commissioned it both Blair and Benton had known it would be a good statement of their hopes for SELF, for Sentinels, and for the work they had begun.

> " _If there is light in the soul, there will be beauty in the person._  
>  If there is beauty in the person, there will be harmony in the home.  
> If there is harmony in the home, there will honor in the nation.  
> If there is honor in the nation, there will be peace in the world."

The sun was setting, but a new world, a world they could build and nurture, was beginning for them all. Together.

-==OOO==-

End of Arc 2


End file.
